When the Music Fades
by DarkWriterXX94
Summary: "We were just six girls that wanted something to do that didn't involve getting pregnant or getting high. We just wanted a way out of our small town. It was supposed to be fun,-it was supposed to be a journey. It wasn't supposed to hurt." Full summary inside. Mitchsen. Bechloe in the beginning. Mentions of drug abuse.
1. Don't Look Back in Anger

_**So I've had this story just sitting on my computer since a little after the movie came out and only now have I had the discipline to actually put words onto paper. Here's a bit of information I have to tell you before we begin. First, this story will be one of my lighter stories but will have angst nonetheless. It's bechloe and mitchsen (of course). I haven't done as much research for this story as I have for others (I had 200 pages of notes for TLOBC) and I'm trying to see how I write without a definite detailed outline. Hopefully it doesn't suck too bad. The chapters alternate between past and present and thus will be released two at a time (hopefully). Although it I am starting my first year of grad school so I can't make many promises on the update schedule. But I'll try my hardest to get you the two chapters every week or at the least one chapter in the beginning of the week and the second a few days later."**_

 _ **Next, while I didn't outline, I did spend a lot of time doing everything else like creating album and albums covers for the band as well as compiling songs to go along with those imaginary albums. However, I still haven't quite figured out what platform I'll use to share the playlists I created. I might just use Tumblr and post links to the songs as well as the album covers I created.**_

* * *

 **When the Music Fades**

Full Summary:

 _"We were just six girls that wanted something to do that didn't involve getting pregnant or getting high. We just wanted a way out of our small town. It was supposed to be fun—it was supposed to be a journey. It wasn't supposed to hurt."_

The Bellas were one of the largest female rock acts of the 1990s. The six women was the voice of a barely pubescent Generation Y and served as the template for everyone that followed. And unlike so many of their peers and counterparts, they never lost their credibility, never sold out, and never gave up. That is, until the Bellas saw their fame slowly deteriorate due to drugs, tragedy, and betrayal. Now twenty years later, they're forced back together. Can the Bellas finally resolve what led to their break up all those years prior and take the stage once again?

* * *

 **Prologue**

May 9, 1992. The day Beca first realized that they were good. That they actually had a shot. Until that night, she had forced herself to persevere through the entire endeavor for Stacie's sake. Make people pay attention. Make them take The Bellas seriously. Make them believe that an all-girl rock band was worth spending their cash on. But this night, at Crowbar, a tiny dive bar downtown on a Saturday night she stopped forcing herself and let the music carry them along.

Her guitar was clean and sharp. Cynthia Rose's bass weaved the spaces between Beca's chords with rhythmic notes of her own, her pink mohawk of braids swung, headbanging as if it were the last time she would ever be allowed to touch a bass. Stacie and Fat Amy on the keyboard and drums were feeding off each other like Siamese twins joined at the stomach and the songs suddenly made five times more sense, tumbling out of her and Chloe's hands and onto their respective fret board. It was such a high that seemed to force Aubrey out her shell and let the shy nerd act fall away as she stood out in front of them (probably blind as all hell without her glasses) with a posture that portrayed more confidence than could comfortably fit inside of one single human being.

They were _good_ and that justified everything. The nights with only a jar of peanut butter to share between them, the three dumpster-rescued mattresses on the floor of their efficiency sized apartment. It was all worth it. Anything for the music, which meant anything for the six of them no matter what the cost. Anything to keep them together.

After the show, Cynthia Rose and Fat Amy packed up the drum kit lightning fast because this was St. Louis and this city was dangerous enough without the added fact of it being midnight and the car being parked in a back alley.

Beca put her guitar away and leaned tired and sweaty against the emergency exit door, drops of sweat still running down the side of her face, her torn Metallica t-shirt clinging to her chest. James Hetfield's whiskey stained vocals sang _never opened myself this way, life is ours, we live it our way_ out of the sound system and the rest of the group barreled off to the bar.

"I messed up the bridge on 'Down by the Water,'" was all Aubrey said from where she stood across from her.

"It doesn't matter," Beca shrugged and thrust a black flash into her hand, grinning, and tugged the small Ziploc with three joints out of the back pocket of her sweat-damp jeans. "We fucking killed it."

Aubrey jerked her head to the side—half pleasure, half dissent—and Beca watched as she gulped whisky from the flask shyly and looked over to where their friends were drinking at the bar.

Aubrey blinked slowly. She dragged her eyes back to Beca's face, the smell of weed filling the air between them and handed back the flask. Her lips curved in a crooked smile, "We kicked ass, huh?"

"Fuck yeah," Beca said, grinning. The two looked at each other as if they could see right inside the other, as if they understood the other better than they understood themselves before they each grew embarrassed and latched their attention on their rowdy band mates.

"Things are going to be different now, aren't they?" Aubrey spoke softly.

"They have to be. We've got to see this thing through. We've gotten good. And tonight, we were," Beca paused, exhaling a breathy force of air, "We were fucking awesome. We've got to see if we can take it all the way."

"Of course." Aubrey swayed closer, nudging Beca's shoulder with her own. "What was it that Stacie said, 'conquer the fucking world'?"

Beca looked over at Aubrey and grinned, "Yeah. We're gonna conquer the fucking world."

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Don't Look Back in Anger**

 _Take me to the place where you go_

 _Where nobody knows if it's night or day_

 _But please don't put your life in the hands_

 _Of a Rock n Roll Band_

 _Who'll throw it all away_

-Don't Look Back in Anger by Oasis

 _September 2012_

 _Los Angeles California._

"You're on in twenty," came from the doorway before Beca was joined by the set manager and host who stepped inside the dressing room to introduce himself. She felt herself getting more and more anxious as the interview drew closer—something she hadn't been able to get over despite having done hundreds of interviews to date. After a few minutes chatting, the host was called out, apologizing that he couldn't stay long and that he had to get back out to be fitted for his mic. While the hairstylist worked on her hair, the set manager ran through how the interview was going to play out. A few minutes later, she was called out to the set to get the lightning and sound set up for her.

She could feel herself sweating under the studio lights while people fussed around her, attaching a microphone to her shirt and adjusting the light rigging. After a minute or two they were satisfied, and Beca was ushered to the set to the sofa, a make-up artist dashing over and quickly brushing mattifying powder over her face to ensure she didn't look shiny on camera. Beca's palms were sweating and she tried to surreptitiously wipe them on her pants (only to remember she was wearing leather and they didn't absorb any of the clamminess in her palms), before raking her fingers through her hair, upsetting the work the stylist had put into the style. The host smiled at her and they chatted for a moment. The producer asked if they were ready to start and Beca nodded. She reached for the water next to her and took a sip and shakily exhaled as the producer counted down and the cameramen wheeled the cameras in to focus on the set.

The host addressed the camera and announced, "Hey everyone, John Rizzo here from AltSounds and if you're just now joining us, I'm joined here by Beca Mitchell of course formerly of The Bellas and about to release the new solo album _Ask More Questions_." Turning to face Beca, the cameras panned out to the pair as John looked at her and continued, "Thank you so much for stopping by and spending time with me. Although, I have to say you seem a little nervous."

Beca took a deep breath, released the air slowly and replied with a half-smile, ""Thank you for having me. And no, it's not really nerves, I guess, but more like not really relishing in have a lot of the spotlight on me."

The host chuckled, "Well that's kind of the point of going solo, am I right?"

Beca smirked, "Yeah, I guess so. But anyone that knows me, knows I don't really think stuff through before I do it."

The host was nice and very easy to talk to, so she found herself calming down and answering the questions easily and openly, almost by instinct and she figured all the media training and interview skills she acquired over the years were almost instinctual at this point. Within a few minutes, she was explaining her favorite parts about recording her recent album, her eyes sparkling as she and the host joining in easy laughter.

"So, tell us how it felt being on set for _River of Deceit_. Putting on the costumes and wearing the masks must have been fun."

Beca grinned slightly as she placed the glass in her hand down on the table next to her.

"I'm not going to lie. It was fun. I got to watch the special effects people make the fake blood and they talked me through every step as they applied the blood prosthetic for when Jesse reaches in and pulls my heart out in the video."

The host follow up with, "Yeah, I along with several millions of fans, based on the number YouTube watches, were happy to see you working with your old friend once again. I hear you were kinda given carte blanche when asked to write the main theme for the movie. What made you bring Jesse in on the project?"

"Well, I write best for other voices," she responded with a shrug. "I mean, it's only recently that I've been writing for my own voice. So, when I came up with the lyrics after watching a preproduction edit of the film," Beca paused and looked at the camera lens, "You guys should definitely go see this film. It's fucking killer." She turned back to the interviewer, "But anyway, once I had the chorus down for 'Angel Eyes,' I thought it'd be rad to have it be a song between the two main characters and that's where Jesse came in. I mean I could've got a fuck ton of other guys to sing the part but Jesse's my best friend and he's always had a weird fetish for film soundtracks—he's probably going to kill me for that— and I figured, why not help him out."

"And the fans are more grateful for it. So, for many of the people that discovered you through your band Woodland Station, 'Angel Eyes' and 'Kill or be Killed' is a bit harder than the work you do for your solo project. How did it feel returning to your old sound?"

Beca paused before replying quietly and honestly, "Uh, I guess it was weird at first. It's kinda like finding an old pair of jeans in the back of your closet and you're not sure if you can still fit them but you try them on anyway. It was kinda like that. Like I said, I didn't used to sing a lot with my…before I went solo but I was able to pick up the sound again easy enough, like riding a bike I guess. You never truly forget how."

The host nodded and followed up by asking, "So does that mean the fans can look forward to a Bella's reunion any time soon?"

Beca frowned and looked at her manager who was standing off to the side. Isaac shrugged, his confused face conveying John was going off script. He gestured for her to steer the conversation back to her new album.

"No, I'm investing all of my efforts into my newest project."

"Aww, c'mon Beca," John pressed on saying, "I'm sure the fans would love to see the sexy sextet back together"

Beca flinched. 'Sexy sextet'. She hadn't heard the moniker dubbed by Rolling Stone, since she packed her bags and walked away all those years ago.

She looked at the John's hopeful face and her frown deepened. "I'm sorry to disappoint but I'd rather not discuss my old band."

Fortunately, John got the hint and switched subjects, asking about _Ask More Questions._ He followed up with a few more light-hearted questions about the album and her plans for a future tour to wind up the interview and end it on a positive note, which Beca answered without difficulty. However, anyone watching the interview could tell the mention of her old band had sobered the mood in the singer dramatically.

* * *

 _Athens, Georgia._

"Cheers!" rang out from the small booth in the back of the Athens restaurant with an echo of glasses clanging against each other.

Aubrey sat back in the arms of her semi-boyfriend…lover…she wasn't sure. Marc smiled at her and tightened his arm around her shoulder.

"It's been so long since we've seen you guys," one of their colleges, Jennifer said. Her boyfriend, Henry, another colleague nodded and said "We were beginning to worry about you two."

Marc placed the glass that was at his lips down on the table in front of him and said "Yeah, we know. No need to worry, though. Just know that Aubrey has been buried in work down at the school." He rubbed her shoulder and made eye contact with her but the blonde looked away. It was a conversation for another time that Aubrey didn't want to dwell on now. She turned her attention back to her friends who were smiling at each other as Henry asked, "Well did you tell them the news?"

Jennifer beamed as she slapped his shoulder lightly and said, "No silly."

"What news?" Marc asked. The couple in front of them turned towards them and Jennifer chuckled as she said with another quick glance at Henry, "We're getting married!"

"Ayyyee, Alright!" Marc instantly reached out to grab his glass raising it in praise, forcing Aubrey to do the same while trying to keep a grimace off her face. She knew this would only re-spark the heated argument she had with Marc earlier in the week about moving in with him. The four clanged their glasses against the others and Aubrey tried her best to be a supportive friend. She looked over to the bar where the news had been playing only to see that the channel had been changed to some music network. She frowned and turned back towards their friends, "I'm—I'm really really happy for you guys."

Henry grinned as he took another gulp of his beer before standing suddenly. "Hey, bartender, turn that up." Aubrey looked towards where he had shouted in confusion only to pale at the sound of a familiar opening and her fingers twitched, feeling the ghost of a plectrum. Henry grinned as he retook his seat and turned towards his fiancé. "This was the band I was telling you about babe. One of my students gave me their CD…I know, I was shocked kids still bought them too."

Jennifer looked at Aubrey and Marc. If she noticed how uncomfortable Aubrey was, she didn't comment. Her fiancé continued to tap his fingers on the table and Jennifer rolled her eyes.

"Please excuse him. He's been obsessed with this band lately."

Henry grinned, "Have you heard of the Bellas? If not, you definitely should look them up." He took a sip of his beer and pointed at Aubrey, "Hey, you even look like the lead singer. What was her name? Shit…" he said trailing off in thought before shrugging and going back to listening to the music playing from the speakers above them. She caught Marc's eye and he wiggled his eyebrows, amused that Henry was unaware that the woman that sang the song he was playing air drums too sat less than five feet away from him. She forced her own smile, using her wine glass as a distraction as she looked away. She glanced over at the television and caught sight of her in a time she'd rather not relive and forced herself to look away.

However, despite any attempt to focus on the gushing couple in front of her, she couldn't get the music video out of her head—a vision that seemed to have seared itself in her mind. And that night when she found herself on her back taking care to push out breathy moans every few minutes as Marc thrust himself in and out of her, she wondered if she was any happier now than the young girl she had seen on that television screen.

* * *

 _Savannah, Georgia._

Chloe Beale removed her saxophone from the strap around her neck and placed it on its stand next to her desk. She glanced at the clock and walked to the center of the room, taking a seat behind her music podium. She tapped her plastic baton on the music stand in front of her to get her classes attention and signal them to wrap up tuning their instruments. She shifted in her seat to get comfortable as she took out the sheet music for the class.

"Ms. Beale?"

She looked up and smiled at her student, who held a fender Stratocaster in his hand.

"I'm not really sure if I tuned it right. I know you wanted me to learn to do it by ear but it's really hard."

She smiled sympathetically and extended her hands to take the instrument. "That's ok, Julian. I didn't expect you to pick it up so soon. Just keep practicing because it is a good skill to have and gets you on the path to improvisation—knowing what the notes sound like before you play them."

She took his plectrum and began to play random chords. However, even over the sound of the guitar she couldn't help but pick up on the conversation the rhythm and bass section of her band had been holding.

"You know that Grunge died when Kurt Staley offed himself."

"That's stupid man. Of course you'd say that. Anybody that knows anything knows grunge, riot grrl, all of that died when the Bella's broke up."

At the mention of her former band, Chloe's hand slipped and a harsh sound screamed from the amp next to the seating platform catching the attention of the entire class. She grimaced slightly apologizing for the noise before turning back to Julian and telling him his guitar is tuned fine.

Julian smiled in appreciation as he pulled the guitar strap over his head and onto his shoulder. "Thanks Miss Beale. It's like you can play every instrument."

She smiled softly and turned in her seat. She looked at the class apologizing for the noise before picking up her baton.

"Alright, let's start with the C scale."

 _Atlanta, Georgia_

"So, it's decided? We're doing it?" CR asked, spinning in her chair to look away from the audio console. She placed adjusted the earphone in her ear and placed her phone on her lap.

" _Of course we're doing it. Everyone knows, twenty years from the first album you've got to do something."_ Fat Amy said

"I know, but it's easier said than done. What do you have to say about this, Legacy?" She asked the third and so far, silent person, also on the call.

"I want to do it. You know I loved playing with you guys but we also have half of the band that hates each other. How are we going to get them to agree?"

All three went silent for a while before Fat Amy sighed and said, "I'm sure we'll think of something. I know Chloe will be easy enough to convince it's just the other two I'm worried about. They've got more bad blood between them than a pair of dingoes fighting over raw steak."

Emily spoke up and said "I would say getting Aubrey to agree would guarantee Beca but I'm not so sure. I'm still not even sure I know of all that happened between the two."

CR nodded before remembering they couldn't see her. "Yeah but I do and you're right, it's going to be hard to get either of them down here to Georgia, nonetheless to do an entire tour…But we can at least try."

"Alright, so I can give Howie the go ahead?" Fat Amy asked.

"Yeah." CR said after a few moments of contemplation. "Yeah, tell him we're doing it."

She grimaced at the loud whoop that rang in her ear as Fat Amy celebrated. "This is going to be killer. The fans don't know what they're in for."

CR shook her head as the call ended, musing to herself. "And I'm not sure if we know either."

* * *

Please Review. If you have any suggestions of how I can share the playlists let me know. I'll have the second chapter up in a couple of days. I'm in the process of packing for my move to L.A. so I'll upload the next chapter when I have time to give it some final edits.


	2. We've Only Just Begun

**Chapter 2 We've Only Just Begun**

 _Sharing horizons that are new to us_  
 _Watching the signs along the way_  
 _Talking it over just the two of us_  
 _Working together day to day_  
 _Together_

 _And when the evening comes we smile_  
 _So much of life ahead_  
 _We'll find a place where there's room to grow_  
 _And yes, We've just begun_

-We've Only Just Begin; The Carpenters

* * *

May _1991; St. Louis, MO_

It was the last song of the night and Beca was exhausted, having long ago reached her limit; her throat was sore and the soles of her feet burned from standing for most of the night. While Beca wasn't the type to often whine, she had a lot to whine about _tonight_. For one thing, it didn't help that she and Stacie had been forced to put effort into their wardrobe, being told they had to dress appropriately if they wanted to be paid for their services. Which led to her donning the burgundy gown swirling at her ankles, similar to what the bridesmaids were wearing. The fan on the far left of the stage was blowing hard and oscillating slowly, thus visions of a reenacting the Marilyn Monroe "up-skirt" moment plagued her all night (of course the dress was too damn long for that but she made sure to run her hand along her waist every few minutes to ensure the dress was still in place). Luckily, she'd been able to avoid the long heels the bride tried to force her into, and could hide a pair of black flats under the hem.

However, aside from the wardrobe and joint strain from standing, Beca was pissed before the reception even began. When they signed the contract to perform at the wedding reception, they were told they would be a solo gig, just Beca with her vocals and guitar, and Stacie at the piano, just as they'd always advertised themselves; but at the last minute the wedding planners brought in a supplementary cellist and saxophone player. Apparently, the blushing bride and groom couldn't afford the hotel's own band for the reception (not part of the pay packet, go figure) so they'd hired Beca and Stacie because they were so cheap, only charging $150. However, at the last minute they decided a singer and a pianist weren't enough for an _entire_ wedding reception, so in came the two guys currently flanking her on stage.

To their credit, though, they facilitated the role of backups and didn't take over. The black guy on the saxophone had been in tune with Stacie but always followed her lead, and the cellist's effects worked well with Beca's vocals without overpowering them. The balance among the four musicians was impressive considering the two men were professions while Beca and Stacie were barely out of high school; but despite that these men had the decency to know that this was a shared gig and not a power play for the spotlight.

Their group consisted simply of herself and Stacie at the moment, a singer/guitarist and a pianist, a group that Stacie insisted had the protentional to be a band, _"another band out of Seattle was signed. Another nirvana wannabe, Becs. We could do it. I know we could,"_ but Beca didn't agree. It wasn't that she didn't think they were talented but Beca didn't have any lofty delusions of getting a record deal or any shit like that, she just wanted to perform and earn a little money doing so. She liked to perform. She liked to sing. Growing up, while the other kids listened to Madonna and Paula Abdul, Beca wanted to be like Suzi Quatro and Patti Smith. Then puberty hit and provided her with a deep, ashy voice that proved more soulful that expected.

During a brief two-minute break where they all took for a sip of water, Beca fingered through the song sheets. She and Stacie wrote their own songs but the groom had very specific requests, so they'd been performing cover songs all night and the last one was a Bonnie Tyler mix. It was _Total Eclipse of the Heart,_ and if Beca was being honest she hated the song, but what she was singing was irrelevant, she just needed to do it well.

By the time Beca took to the mic again dessert and coffees were already being circulated around the tables. The cellist signaled her with a tap of his nose "ready?" and Beca's replied with a nod. He then nodded to the saxophone-player and Beca did the same to Stacie, so they could all start. Once she started striking keys in the fluid and effortless way she always did, Beca joined her;

She didn't really notice the brief ovation until the cellist came up behind her whispered, "Nice job, kid. Go have a rest" then took the microphone from her and declared to the wedding party, "How about it for our young talent here, huh?"

Their ovation peaked then. Stacie climbed off the stool she'd been sitting on and Beca pulled herself together, plucking at her bangs and wiping the sweat from her cheeks. As the cellist went on to explain what would be happening next (the instruments being moved from the luncheon hall to the dance floor next door where the newlyweds would have their first dance) Beca descended the stage with Stacie, cringing and hobbling on her sore feet to their corner table where a small folded card displayed their names. A sigh of relief was had when she finally sat down.

With a smile of gratitude when a waiter placed a glass of champagne in front of her, Beca looked around the room without a purpose until she spotted a girl in a dress similar to theirs with curly red hair probably around their age, smiling at her when their eyes met. Beca smiled back at her, feeling it was the least she could do for the girl not laughing at the cheesy set they just performed. Suddenly, the girl seemed to excuse herself from her table and started to walk towards her and Stacie. After making her way through the dancing couples, she finally reached their table.

"Uh... Hi. I just wanted to say that you were really good up there."

Stacie turned to look at her and gave her a friendly smile. "Ha, you're cute," she said, grinning even more when the redhead looked away with a blush. "That set was corny as all hell but we appreciate your kindness anyway."

The girl laughed lightly and ran her hand distractedly down her dress before clearing her throat. "Yeah, I guess that's all I wanted to say, you guys are awesome." She was about to turn away but for some reason Beca wanted her to stay and move to stop her but thankfully Stacie managed to do it faster.

"Hey, do you maybe wanna hang out with us? They gave us this whole table to ourselves so there's room."

The redhead seemed genuinely surprised by the offer, but soon a childish crooked grin made her entire face light up and Beca found herself smiling too. She glanced over to Stacie and the two made eye contact, communicating without speaking and Beca gave a conspicuous head shake _not her._ Something about the redhead's childish demeanor made Beca feel like a predator and it seemed Stacie thought the same thing although she did seem to sigh in disappointment. Beca hid a smirk behind her glass when she took another sip, relishing in the annoyed look on Stacie's fast that she wouldn't be getting laid tonight, even if it meant Beca herself would have to pass up the redhead as well.

"Yeah, I'd like that," the girl said and took a seat next to Stacie.

"By the way, what's your name?" Stacie asked.

"I'm Chloe."

Stacie extended her hand for Chloe to shake, "Nice to meet you. I'm Stacie." She nodded her head in Beca's direction, "that's Beca, but don't expect her to talk much, she's afraid of people."

Beca scoffed, "Fuck you, Stace, no I'm not!"

Stacie chuckled and Beca watched her lean over and whisper "she is" to Chloe, which made her laugh.

Beca flipped her off to which Stacie blew her a kiss making their guest laugh even more.

A waiter came by to refill their glasses and to hand Chloe a new one.

"So, what's the name of your band?"

Beca opened her mouth to answer that they weren't a band but was interrupted by Stacie's voice, "The Bellas."

Beca rolled her eyes but Chloe didn't seem to notice and instead looked genuinely impressed. "It's not a band," Beca said.

Stacie scoffed, "It so is a band."

Beca was in the middle of taking another sip of champagne when Stacie said that and released a displeased sound into her glass.

"How can it be a band if we're missing the key ingredients?"

"Like what?" Stacie shot back.

"A bassist and a drummer."

Stacie sucked her teeth before conceding she was right. "Ok, so maybe it's not a band, _yet._ But we've gotta start somewhere."

Chloe looked at them curiously and chuckled, "So not a band but you have name?"

"Of course," Stacie said, her face lighting up as if she was excited to have someone to entertain her thoughts of starting a band. "When we were like eleven, we agreed that was going to be the name no matter what. Even if we played Norwegian death metal, we were going to be The Bellas."

Beca grumbled, "I don't remember agreeing to that." She rolled her eyes and suggested that Chloe ignore the pianist but Stacie continued.

"Hey, do you play anything" Stacie questioned. "Maybe you can join our band and help me convince grumpy pants over here that we actually have a shot of being signed."

Chloe nodded, "Um, yeah I play the violin and saxophone. I've always wanted to learn the guitar but my parents didn't think it was a good investment so I have to save up for one."

Stacie smiled, "Well we work at GuitarWorld in the Blue Star mall. We could get you a killer discount if you want to stop by."

"That's in New Haven, right?" Chloe asked and Stacie nodded.

"Yeah." Beca said. "You from New Haven?"

Chloe shook her head, "No. Washington. So, not that far."

Beca wiggled her eyebrows as she said, "Ooh, a big city girl," and Chloe laughed at her sarcasm.

Stacie sat back in her seat and clapped her hands together, "Ohh, this will be great. Now we've got a rhythm guitarist possibly and now we just need the rest of the rhythm section. So, what do you say, Chloe, want to join our official/unofficial band?"

Beca opened her mouth to tell Chloe she didn't have to answer Stacie but was interrupted by Chloe's soft laugh as she looked at Stacie.

"I'd love to join your band."


	3. Got A Hole In My Soul, Growing Deeper

Chapter 3 **Got a hole in my soul, growing deeper and deeper.**

 _How can I say this without breaking?  
How can I say this without taking over?  
How can I put it down into words  
When it's almost too much for my soul alone?_

— _Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie_

Beca didn't think she could handle sitting at this table for a second longer. Her manager, Isaac, continued to drone on about...she didn't even know. That was how uninvested she was in the conversation.

"Beca…Beca!"

"Huh?"

"Are you even listening?"

Beca rolled her eyes and picked up her neglected coke can. She took a long sip while trying to figure out if she had retained even a sentence of his diatribe.

Isaac sighed, "This is serious, Beca. Vh1 is willing to pay big if you're willing to sit down for an interview about the Bellas. The head exec, Darrel Watson said—"

Beca cut in with "Tell _Darrel_ that I'm not doing the damn interview, just like I told him the first time he called me. Let him know that his attempts to use you in hopes that I'd change my answer are futile…" she paused at the small chime from her phone and picked it up.

"Beca, I don't understand why you won't just do it. it's only an hour an it'll be good publicity for the new album. The Bellas were big and I don't understand why you refuse to even acknowledge your former band."

Beca's eyebrow furrowed as she read the incoming text from her former bandmate, Fat Amy, as if mentioning her was the cause of the sudden message. _Little Koala, I'm know you're coming to town. You better meet me for lunch when you get here."_ Beca rolled her eyes but replied _Fine,_ nonetheless, because she knew refusing Fat Amy would only spur the drummer to seek her out and possibly throw her over her shoulder to carry her to lunch.

Putting her phone down, she looked back at her manager. "Look, Isaac, I don't have problem doing the interview but I'm not talking about my old band. Yeah, The Bellas were big but there was a lot of shit that happened behind the scenes on our way to the top. So, forgive me for not wanting to reflect on that time in my life."

Isaac was going to respond but they were interrupted by a kid, probably in his late teens, running up to their table.

"Dude, you're Beca Mitchell. Can—Can I get your autograph and maybe a picture?"

Beca smiled, always appreciative of her fans, and nodded, "Sure."

The fan crouched down next to her seat and held out his iPhone. He quickly snapped the picture and Beca could see the star struck countenance he wore on the phone screen.

"Thanks, man," he said, reaching into his bookbag to pull out a magazine, Revolver, and opened it to the centerfold which ironically enough displayed The Bellas. Isaac raised his eyebrow in amusement and Beca rolled her eyes as she accepted the pen from the teen.

Beca nodded and quickly wrote thanks for being a fan of her music and then quickly signed her name next to her picture.

"Man, you have no idea how fucking cool this is. You're like my favorite guitar player and I'm so glad you guys are getting back together."

Beca's head snapped to Isaac in bemusement and the agent was conveniently distracted by his phone. She looked at the teen then down at the magazine for the first time taking the time to question _why_ the Bellas were in the latest edition of Revolver. She read the headline, "A True American Dream: The Bellas Reunite for Domestic Tour." She offered a tight-lipped smile to the young man and handed him his magazine. He thanked her again and ran off, his phone in hand probably to call a friend to brag. When he was out of sigh she turned to her agent and all but screamed, "What fucking tour?"

* * *

Chloe held her hands in the air, a baton nestled in her left, allowing the silence to hold in the room. She silently counted another four beats before dropping her hands. "Alright, instruments down. Great job guys." She looked at the clarinet section leader, "Aaron the time you've put into your instrument is really showing. You're not rushing through the notes. Now all—" she was interrupted by the sound of the door to the band room opening and slamming shut. Chloe didn't have to look to know it was her principal bassist.

"Glad you could finally join us, Auggie."

The out of breath teen waved a magazine in the air. "They're…they're getting back together." He panted. This garnered the attention of many of her students much to her chagrin.

"Who's getting back together," a student from the brass section asked.

Before Auggie could answer, Chloe clapped her hands together to get their attention. "You can discuss that on your own time. Now Auggie, why are you late?"

Still trying to catch his breath, the freshman once again raised the magazine crumbled in his sweaty hand. "Miss Beale, I swear I meant to get here on time. I even took the 7:15 bus instead of the 7:30 but then I saw this," he waved the magazine.

One of Chloe's students, the Timpani player, Jason, called out asking what was so special about a magazine.

The young bassist shook his head as he pulled in large breaths of air. "It's not the magazine. It's what's _in_ the magazine." He opened the booklet to the centerfold and Chloe nearly choked from the sudden dryness in her mouth. She tried to remain impassive, busying herself with the sheet music in front of her as she watched out of her peripheral as Auggie showed them the two-page spread of the Bellas. Chloe didn't have to look to recognize the picture. It was from their first shoot after signing with In Motion Records. What she didn't understand was why they were in a current edition of Plectrum magazine, a very popular and very credible music magazine. She could hear Auggie reading bits of the article and tried to pay attention while appeared uninterested.

" _Beca, Aubrey, Chloe, Stacie, Fat Amy, and Cynthia Rose—Six women who left a permanent mark in Rock music._

 _Earlier this week, the band's rhythm section, Emily (who went on to fill the role of keyboardist in 1995), Fat Amy, and Cynthia Rose met at the latter's Atlanta home where they sat down with In Motion exec, Mel Burton to book six dates in venues across the country. The tour, which is sure to attract not only national but international attention, has been timed to coincide with the_ _Twentieth anniversary of The_ _Bellas' first EP, "American Dream." Yet, it would be remiss not to mention that only half of the band has signed on for the three-month tour. Without the band's_ _lead_ _singers, Chloe and Aubrey, or the lead guitarist, Beca, many are skeptical that this tour will ever happen._

Auggie turned the page to continue reading when he was stopped by one of his classmates, the first flautist, who asked, "Who are they anyway? I've never heard of them,"

Chloe watched Auggie turn and sneer at the young lady. "That's cuz you listen to that top 40 billboard bullshit. I wouldn't expect you to know about bands like The Bellas."

Another student grabbed the magazine from Auggie and said, "Hey, that girl looks like Ms. Beale."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Chloe found a dozen students looking up at her.

Another student, one of the trombone players, nodded, "Yeah she does except the hair is all different and Ms. Beale has glasses and—"

"Alright, that's enough" Chloe said and tapped her baton on the stand in front of her as she told the students to take their seats. The class took a few minutes to refocus but afterwards she was able to finish leading the band through warm ups. Although, not long after she did have to confiscate the magazine from Auggie, who had it tucked in between sheets of music in an attempt to discreetly read it.

The magazine sat in her desk for majority of the day and it wasn't until her free period that afternoon, was she no longer able to resist opening the magazine. It didn't help that she had received an email from Emily inviting her to lunch at the end of the week. For so long she had managed to put her former band out of her mind and all in the span of a few hours, it was all being forced back into the forefront of her mind.

She ran her fingers gently over the picture of her younger self. It had been so long since she'd worn her hair in its natural shade that seeing the red hair on her teenage self, it made her pause. She released a soft sigh as she gently trailed her fingers over the pictures of the other band members, pausing the longest to look at the pictures of the women who had been her closest friends, Aubrey and Beca, before turning the page to pick up where Auggie had left off.

 _The tour is slated to kick off this coming June in Atlanta, Georgia, and the committed trio hopes that by then, Aubrey, Chloe, and possibly even Beca—who has seen great success as a solo artist—could come on board._

 _I am also allowed to reveal that Abe McDonald, the man that made a Shotgun Daises reunion possible will return as the group's PR exec. Also, legendary manager, Gail Abernathy, who masterminded the band's image the first time around is returning to complete the Bella's dream team._

 _If there's a man who knows a thing or two about getting one of the world's biggest bands back together, it's Abe McDonald. He reunited Shotgun Daises in 2006,_ _three_ _decade_ _s_ _after they split—and he states Aubrey, Beca, and Chloe would be mad to miss a reunion._

 _In an exclusive interview, Abe, told me: "I saw the little one [Beca] recently and said to her, 'You need to stop running from what you did all those years ago,' — because they changed everything."_

 _Fingers crossed the band's three front women take Abe's advice. The Bellas were a phenomenon who changed rock— and Plectrum has charted their every twist and turn since their start. Their millions of fans deserve a final chance to see them together again and prove that despite the various paths their lives have taken, the Heart and Soul of each of these women still remains at the Rockshow._

Chloe sighed. While she had never forgotten her former band, she tried not to commiserate on the loss of what once brought her a lot of happiness. She accepted her part in their breakup a long time ago and cheered from afar when she'd see articles on their successes. Every now and then she'd do a google search just to see where each woman was in their life.

All the reports on Fat Amy were her stumbling out of nightclubs with muscled guys, rumors of her with latest high profile boyfriend, or being drunk and rowdy at celebrity parties. It looked like she was considered a 'D-list celebrity' having had a failed string of solo projects and with the ever present tagline in reports 'washed up drummer.'

Emily was engaged to a prolific orchestra conductor. Both were employed by the Georgia Symphony Orchestra, and there were lots of pictures of her doing charity work and accompanying her fiancé to various high profile events.

Cynthia Rose had gone on to gain success as a music producer, being responsible for the discovery of several still popular groups and artists. Beca had also been very successful after the dissolution of their band and had gone on to release four successful albums to date. She wasn't afraid to admit that Beca's third album, _Luisa_ , is one of her favorite albums. And Aubrey, like Chloe moved back to Georgia and found a quiet life. There were reports on fan sightings of her going shopping or in and around town but she rarely stopped for pictures so no one could confirm if it really was her.

The seventh period bell rang reminding Chloe that she was still at work. She sighed and closed the magazine. She looked at her phone, remembering that she had agreed to meet Emily and she wondered if this lunch was an ambush to get her to agree to the tour. She wondered if Cynthia Rose and Fat Amy set up a similar situation to meet with Aubrey and Beca. With a chuckle, she stood up to greet her next class, _I hope, for their sake, that Aubrey and Beca don't figure out what they're attempting to do. Because if they do…_ she shuddered and tried not to imagine it.

Chloe had long ago prayed for an opportunity to make amends with the five women she loved more than life itself and she felt for the first time that maybe this tour was God giving her that chance.

* * *

Aubrey rubbed the temples of her forehead, sighing as she marked yet another question wrong on the midterm in front of her. She didn't understand how a student could declare engineering as a major and not put any effort into passing classes, such as hers, that were crucial to their degree. She wrote the number 64 in large letters at the top and circled it before placing the stapled sheets onto the pile of exams she'd already graded.

As she reached for another, a small chime sounded from her macbook. Thankful for the distraction, she ran her fingers across the trackpad to wake up her screen. Her eyes widened when she read the name of the messenger. Cynthia Rose

 _Cynthia Rose (11:14 am): Hey, I'm going to be in Atlanta in a few days promoting a show. I would really like to see you. Maybe we can meet for lunch?_

Several thoughts ran through her mind at first, the primary question being how Cynthia Rose got her email address. She quickly stopped pondering it when she remembered that anyone with access to the internet could probably find she worked at UGA. A knock at her office door pulled her out of the cyclical thoughts and she let out a long breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Aubrey?"

She looked up blankly to see Marc standing in the doorframe. "Hey," she murmured and look back at her computer.

"Everything ok?" he asked, walking into the room and pulling the chair from around her desk to take a seat next to her.

"Cynthia Rose," Aubrey replied, adding after Marc raised an eyebrow in question, "the bassist from my former band. She invited me to lunch." Her eyes continued to scan the message and silence stretched between them before Marc let out a low whistle, "Well, that's a bit out of the blue."

Aubrey nodded and let out a hollow laugh which did nothing to relieve the tension in the room, "No shit," she said and sighed when Marc looked at her in surprise because she rarely swore.

Marc reached over and placed a hand on her knee, squeezing it as a sign of support while Aubrey sat quietly trying to digest what Cynthia Rose's message meant for her. Her mind reeled as the mental levees burst and her brain was flooded with memories of a time she wanted desperately to forget. She hadn't spoken to anyone from her old life for the past fifteen years. Of course, after she left that early Sunday morning to return to Missouri, they had all tried to contact her but after a year of two of not responding they gave up. Beca had tried for a little longer, but Aubrey pushed away the thought of Beca, her name painful even now.

"So, are you going to go?" Marc asked and Aubrey looked up at him with a painfilled frown. Marc scooted to the edge of his seat to pull her into his arms. Aubrey rested her forehead against his shoulder and released a deep exhale. He kissed the crown of her head and said, "It's not like you're meeting with the entire band. Didn't you say that you used to be really close to Cynthia Rose. Maybe it'll do you some good to reconnect."

Aubrey looked up to meet his eyes, "I…I don't know."

"Hey, what about this," he began, rubbing soothing circles on her back, "I'll drive you there. If it gets to be too much, I'll be right outside to take you home."

Aubrey pondered his suggestion in silence before sighing and pulling away from his embrace. She sat up turned back to her screen. Before she could change her mind, and ignoring the knots in her stomach which told her that this was probably a bad idea, she quickly typed out a message to Cynthia Rose, agreeing to meet with her. She sat back in her office chair with an exhale.

Turning her head to look at Marc, she said, "What're you doing here anyway. You're never on campus on Tuesdays."

March chuckled and sat back in his chair while crossing his arms. "I'm going to take that as a sign that you forgot about the department meeting today."

Aubrey palmed her forehead and sighed, "Dammit. I did."

"Then consider yourself lucky that I was considerate enough to stop by," he joked only to laugh harder when Aubrey scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"You think Percy will be pissed if I skip? I need to finish grading."

Marc shrugged. "He probably will but I wouldn't worry too much about it. You know how these meetings go—"

"Two hours of endless talking about nothing."

"Exactly. But I probably should go," he said and stood. "Unlike you, I have no ungraded exams to excuse me." He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead before making his way towards the door.

"Oh, screw you, Marc," Aubrey said with a laugh, "Everyone doesn't have four G.A.s at their disposal."

Marc only gave a smug smirk and a shrug as he crossed the threshold out into the hallway. Aubrey shook her head at his antics, a small smile on her face as she turned her attention back to her work.

"Crap, that's what I meant to tell you," he said, peeking his head back in the door. "It's probably nothing but with this whole lunch thing, I thought it'd be best to let you know there's a rumor going around about a tour for the Bellas."

She frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"I overheard Henry talking about it. Apparently, he read on some site about a reunion tour for the Bellas."

Aubrey rolled her eyes and returned to grading. "It's a rumor."

Marc shrugged, "Like I said, it's probably nothing but I don't want you to be caught out unaware."

She nodded and waited for him to leave before dropping her pen and dropping her head into her hands. She knew it was too good to be true, Cynthia Rose reaching out just for the sake of wanting to reconnect. There probably was some sincerity to her invitation with the intention of reconnecting but if there was a talk of a tour, she knew CR probably felt she was in the best position to convince Aubrey. Until she left the band, CR and Stacie were her best frienes of all the women.

Aubrey wondered why she hadn't heard of this rumor until now, before remembering that she didn't use any form of social media and that all of her colleagues and friends that new of her past life had learned very quickly not to mention anything about her former band if they didn't want to piss her off. Because of that, it wasn't surprising that if they knew, no one told her. She thought about what it would mean to be famous again, the lack of privacy, the crazed fans, the tabloid gossip, the betrayal. She had managed to build a quiet life for herself and a modest career in engineering before going on to teach. When she left all those years ago, the mundaneness of her current life was necessary after living in a goldfish bowl with her every move and word scrutinised for so long.

No one in her life really cared that she'd once been in a band, that she'd once been famous; people had learned not to mention it, at least not around her. Her mother still had the awards and platinum discs at home, but Aubrey had made her put them in the attic so they weren't on display whenever she visited her.

Deciding to just bite the bullet and see if the rumor was true, she pulled up her web browser and with shaky hands, Aubrey typed "The Bellas" into the search engine and pressed enter.

Her lips parted slightly in surprise at the amount of recent search results that came back. The tabloid reports on some of the other women, the number of people still talking on social media about them, fan pages that were active and so much more. She had no idea that her former band was still so popular. Aubrey had occasional seen things in gossip magazines about Beca and Cynthia Rose while waiting in the line at the grocery store, but she had always made sure to distract herself with counting the items in her cart until she had reached the cashier and could no longer see the magazines.

Aubrey had built up a quiet life in Athens with nothing but work, Marc, his family and one or two friends. She no longer grew her hair past her shoulder and no longer straightened it. Instead it was dyed a very dark brown, that looked brown in certain lights, and left it to fall in lose curls at her shoulders if she wanted to put the effort in. Other times she would leave it in a bun, secured at the back of her head. She had even been using the name Aubrey Reid for many years so that most people she met would never guess that she had once been a sixth of one of the largest rockbands in the nineties. Aubrey felt a pang in her stomach every time she clicked on a link with a photo of Beca. She'd managed to avoid most media over the last fifteen years and she had blocked out most memories of her time in the band.

Looking at photos of the group, of Beca, of old photos of herself with the band, it all brought back such a surge of feelings. Waves of emotions she had repressed for fifteen years flooded over her. She revised her search term and typed "The Bellas reunion." Her eyes narrowed and she cursed out loud as she scanned the recent results.

"I'm going to kill you CR," she murmured to herself as she clicked on the first link.

* * *

 _Three Days Later_

Emily stepped out of the crosswalk onto the sidewalk and made her way to the patio area of the restaurant where she was set to meet CR and Fat Amy. She only had to look around for a few seconds before she spotted CR waving her over. She made her way to the table that was situated not far from the entrance of the restaurant. She looked at Fat Amy on her left who sat in the small booth and once she saw that the drummer had no plans to move over she sighed and took a seat next to CR.

"Oh, don't look so upset Legacy." Fat Amy said. "I need the space, CR doesn't."

The other two rolled their eyes.

"I know we agreed to invite them separately so that they wouldn't be suspicious but they're not stupid. I'm sure they've heard about the tour by now." Emily said as she looked at the plastic menu in front of her.

"Yeah but each article mentioned that neither of the three signed on. If anything, they'll each want to show up to confirm that they aren't doing it," Fat Amy said.

"Do they know that the others will be here?" Emily asked.

Cynthia Rose scoffed, "Of course not. Otherwise, they wouldn't show."

"Cynthia Rose?" the three looked up into the confused face of Chloe. However, before they could speak, two voices coming from opposite directions stopped them.

Beca, seeming to have approached from the west side of the street and Aubrey, seeming to have made her way from the opposite direction, each shouted, "What are they doing here?"

* * *

So here's the next chapter. In the process of editing chapter four now so expect that in a few days. For some reason, using asterisks as a break aren't showing up when I publish it so I'll have to go back in and add a break line. So I apologize if the previous chapters seem to run from one scene to the other without some sort of indicator that the scene has changed. Not quite sure how you guys like the format of alternating between the past and present with each chapter. Please let me know. So I'll probably end up using maybe spotify or creating a post on tumblr with links since I know everyone doesn't have spotify and if you use the free service you can only shuffle the songs. Also if I used spotify I can't show the album covers I created to go with each album. Would you guys rather I release the playlists as each album is mentioned in the story (there are 6 Bellas albums and beca's recent solo album)? Anyway, it's somewhat late and I'm going to head to bed. Please review if you have the chance.

Update: I've uploaded to tumblr the info for beca's solo album that she talked about in chapter 1. post (slash) 163390635453 (slash) so-heres-the-first-album-for-when-the-music. I know it's a pain to have to put that into the address bar with the way I've written it, but if you just search the tag on tumblr "when the music fades (pp)" or "when the music fades" it should come up.


	4. Fell on Black Days

Chapter 4 **Fell on Black Days**

 _I fell on black days_

 _How would I know_  
 _That this could be my fate?_  
 _How would I know_  
 _That this could be my fate?_

 _-Fell on Black Days by Soundgarden_

 *****Sorry this is so late but with packing and moving I didn't have the time. I just arrived in L.A. last night and I had succumbed to the effects of jet leg. I finally managed to pull out my laptop and upload this. Now that I'm on the west coast, the times I upload might be earlier than usual since the time zone is different.**

***I wrote this chapter some time ago and when I edited it (when I add author's notes) it was on the day Chester Bennington died. That's why the author's note is written the way it is.

So I just found out that Chester Bennington died. This would have been hard on its own, but this coupled with Chris Cornell's death a few months back made this especially difficult because they were close friends. I can't even listen to their duet of Crawling without my chest hurting.

Linkin Park was the band that really introduced me to Rock music and nu-metal (which eventually evolved into tastes for harder metal) and what this band means to mean can't even be put into words. Chris Cornell and soundgarden…his voice and its impact on me is immense. For those unfamiliar with him, I suggest listening to Fell on Dark Days or his cover of Nothing Compares 2 U. Chris, along with Layne Stayley, were my favorite singers in Grunge and now they're both gone. When I began this story, it was a tribute to all of my favorite bands and as the story progresses, you'll see what bands' histories I've drawn inspiration from. With that being said, to have two of my favorite artists pass is devastating to me. I don't want to bring down the mood of the chapter but I couldn't go without saying anything. Especially since some of you might be feeling the same way.

The song featured at the end of the chapter is Alice Fredenham's rendition of My Funny Valentine

* * *

Chloe bounced on the souls of her feet as she waited for someone to answer the door. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching and exhaled when the white door was pulled open.

She looked up and smiled, despite how much the man in front of her intimidated her. His German accent only served to intimidate her even more. Taking a final drag of the cigarette between his lips, he flicked it out onto the lawn and looked behind her, "Did anyone follow you here?"

She shook her head and managed to swallow her yelp of surprise when she was pulled inside. She could hear Pieter securing the several deadbolt locks behind her. The first time she had visited, his behavior had been alarming but after months of visiting, it had become routine.

"Hallo, little red," greeted her when she stepped through the archway into the living room.

Chloe smiled at the owner of the voice and pulled her bookbag off one shoulder to pull it forward so she could reach into the side pocket. Pulling out three green boxes, she extended her arm, "Those weren't easy to grab Lu. Soccer moms are scary."

Luisa looked up with a grin from where she had been tying a tourniquet around her arm and stood up to quickly grab the items. "Ooh, Zin Mints!" She said, dropping the joint in her mouth in the ash tray on the coffee table to quickly open the cardboard box. Pieter, who finally made his way into the living room gave an uncharacteristic sequel and nearly shoved Chloe out of the way to get to the cookies. "Ooh, zere is more!" He said, and snatched one of the boxes from his girlfriend. Chloe just shook her head in amusement as the two devoured the cookies brought on by what she had come to recognize as marijuana induced hunger.

"Are they out back?" she asked and Luisa nodded, her mouth too full to give a verbal response.

Chloe smiled gratefully. She walked towards the kitchen to reach the door that led to the garage but stopped when Luisa called her name.

"Tell Beca, if I am to catch her wearing my jacket one more time I'm going to drop her skinny ass back at das bus station zaht I found her."

Chloe didn't quite understand what Luisa meant by the threat but nodded nonetheless and made her way out of the house and over to the small space where she could faintly hear a guitar being strummed.

"Hey guys," Chloe said as she walked into dimly lit garage, placing her guitar case on the floor next to her chair. She kneeled next to it, flipping the three latches to open the case to take out her brand-new Squire Stratocaster. Beca managed to get it discounted from Guitar World. And although it paled in comparison to Beca's more expensive Fender, it was louder than her acoustic to not drown out when playing rhythm chords behind Beca's lead guitar. It had been two months since that day in St. Louis and a month since Stacie, with Chloe's help, was able to convince Beca to agree to starting a band. They had managed to pick a few of Beca's already written songs and teach the rhythm chords to Chloe. Now they were stuck on finding a lead singer since neither of the three, despite being capable, wanted to take on the task.

"Beca, Lu said that you have one more time to wear her jacket or she's going to, and I quote, leave your skinny ass at the bus station she found you at."

Beca looked over where she was fiddling with the cheap speakers she had connected to her amp and scoffed. "She wouldn't dare. Besides, she rarely even wears the damn thing."

Chloe shrugged, "I'm just the messenger." She stood pulling the faux leather strap around her shoulder and fastened it to her guitar. "Um…Beca?" She said hesitantly.

"Hm?"

"What did she mean when she said she found you at a bus station?" Chloe asked, although her tone betrayed a worry that she might be intruding on something personal. Beca didn't answer, standing still with her back to Chloe. Her shoulders tensed, the only indicator that she'd heard the question.

Stacie spoke up instead, "Chloe, I don't think—" but before she could speak any further, Beca cut her off.

"No, it's fine." She turned around and looked at Chloe. "If we're going to be a band, she should know, right?" She paused for a few minutes, as if drudging up a past she'd rather not remember. "I met Lu when I was thirteen but before that I'd been a street kid since I was ten." Chloe barely could contain a gasp, remembering how she was at that age and not knowing if she could have survived without her parents. The only indication that Beca heard her inhale of shock was a small twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"Long story short, she found me sleeping on a bench at a bus stop. I know, dangerous as hell but I was fucking tired and my instincts were damn near primal at that point so no one was going to get the drop on me. She was traveling to major cities as an up and coming star, the next big thing. Anyway, I could play guitar so she took me in, I guess out of pity, and let me earn my keep by tuning the instruments and packing up the gear." Beca's eyes lit up as she described her early days with Luisa, being sneaked backstage into the clubs but being forced to finish her homework while they performed. Sneaking to stage side anyway to watch Luisa perform, despite any promises she made to do the opposite. "Even when she was hungover as hell, she made sure to wake up every morning and make sure I got up and went to school."

"So, what happened? To Lu, I mean. I've heard her singing some stuff but if she was so great why is she…"

"A junkie?" Beca asked and Chloe nodded with an embarrassed blush.

Beca shrugged, "The same reason anyone is, I guess. I mean look at Ozzy or Sid Vicious. The same thing that drives us to create usually drives us to self-medicate. Some people can keep it a weekend habit and others can't. Doesn't help that her boyfriend is a dealer and gives her as much dope as she wants."

Listening to Stacie explain Luisa's past made Chloe think of the melody she was humming the first time she had met her. It had been her first time at the small house at the end of the block and she tried not to balk at the drug paraphernalia on the coffee table and questionable characters coming and going from the space. Beca had instructed her to follow her to her room but Chloe caught a glimpse of Luisa who sat in a leather skirt and a black mesh shirt on the grimy yellow couch, the vein still pulsing in her arm from the tourniquet tied tight around it, and eyes closed, humming. Chloe remembered the day, not only because it opened her eyes to just how different her two-parent household was from her new friends', but also because of the melody that the older woman produced even in her non-lucid state. Even without words, it had haunted her—seeming to fill the room and everything in it. The visions it gave Chloe: they were dark, but beautiful. They took Chloe out of the house up to the highs of happiness and down into the lows of depression. They brought her through pain; a pain that Chloe probably would never experience. Chloe stared at Luisa, willed her to open her eyes and see her, but Luisa never did. It wasn't until her fifth visit that she had the chance to speak to the singer whose voice, raspy but light and so _German_ ensnared her at the first words spoken between them. _"Hallo, little red."_

"It's unfortunate, too, since she was a hell of a singer and could solve our problem of finding a lead singer," Beca said to conclude her story and picked up her guitar to plug it into her amp.

Chloe sighed and vowed that she wouldn't let what happened to Luisa happen to any of them. Drugs weren't going to come between any of them and their dream. She cleared her throat and looked at Beca, "Thank you for sharing that with me." Beca just offered her a lazy grin and turned away to kneel near her amp and adjust the settings.

Stacie smiled softly at Beca and said, "When we have the money, maybe we should buy her a plane ticket back home. I think she really misses it there."

"To Germany?" Chloe asked and Stacie nodded.

"Sometimes, when I get up in the middle night to get something to drink," Beca said after some time, "I find her doped up on the kitchen floor, singing lullabies to herself in German."

"So, it's agreed," Stacie said, her voice firm and determined, "Our first check will go to paying for Luisa to take a trip back home?"

Beca and Chloe nodded before the three fell into silence as they set up their instruments to play.

"Oh guys, I totally forgot. I think I found us a singer," Chloe said

"Oh yeah? Do we know her?" Stacie asked.

"No. She's my neighbor, Aubrey, and her voice is amazing. I doubt she listens to any of the music we play but I'm sure we could convince her."

Beca shrugged, "I guess we could go check her out."

"We don't have to go anywhere. I have a cassette of her recital."

"Recital?" Stacie asked, her face scrunching up in confusion.

"Not everyone likes to skip school and smoke pot on the roof. Some people get involved in school activities," Chloe teased as she walked over to the boom box situated on the work bench in the corner.

"Wait, so not only is she in high school but she's a choir nerd?" Beca joked and Chloe smirked as she hit play on the radio.

"You won't be saying that once you hear her voice." And as the words left her mouth, Aubrey's voice filled the room.

The moment the piano sounded through the speakers, Stacie sat up straighter, in what Beca recognized was her preparing to figure out the chords. An arrangement of voices soon followed the piano. It was a song that Beca had heard in passing when Stacie played the classic rock station at work but she still listened for this Aubrey's voice.

 _All the leaves are brown_

 _And the sky is grey_

Her singing was alluring, the sound smooth. Her voice didn't waver as she held out notes past the point where Beca would have had to take a breath. They continued to listen to Aubrey's voice, complimented by the choir in the background. It was like being in a trance and continued that way throughout the rest of the song. Aubrey's voice soon drifted off into a whisper before fading out completely.

"So, what did you guys think?" Chloe asked, an anxious smile on her face as she waited for her friend's opinion.

"She's good," Beca said, she muttered still trying to digest what she heard.

"Just good?"

"She's great Chloe," Beca said honestly. Aubrey _was_ an incredible singer. "She obviously can sing but like you said, I doubt she'd be up to singing the type of music we play."

Chloe's hopeful smile fell and her shoulders slumped as she said, "Yeah, so ok, she might not listen to rock or punk but she could learn."

Beca looked over to Stacie who simply shrugged. "You know I already said you should just sing," she said referring to Beca.

Chloe sighed and said, "Well what if we just ask her? If she says no, I won't ask again."

Beca sighed and pulled her guitar strap over her head and placed the instrument onto its stand. "Alright," she said, chuckling and shaking her head when Chloe squealed and jumped up.

"If we hurry, we can still catch her at school. You won't regret this, guys, I promise."

* * *

"No."

"No?" Chloe said with a frown. Aubrey could hear the incredulous tone in Chloe's voice but she didn't dare look up and meet Chloe's eyes. She knew her neighbor could be awfully convincing when she wanted to be. Instead, she focused on the small engine in front of her as she repeated her answer.

Chloe glanced over to where Stacie was filing her nails and Beca stood leaning uninterested against the door with her arms crossed watching the entire scene. She looked back at Aubrey.

Aubrey sighed and pulled back from the magnifying glass, putting down the soldering iron. "I don't want to join your group. Besides, I don't even like that type of music." She pushed up her glasses from where they had fallen to the bridge of her nose and looked over to the two girls at the door. Her face warmed slightly when the shorter one with the ripped jeans and a Megadeth t-shirt smirked and raised an eyebrow at her. She turned away and focused back on Chloe. Beca leaned against the doorframe, following the teen with her eyes as she busied herself with whatever contraption she was working on.

"I'm sorry. I just…I don't have the time between choir practice and robotics—"

"C'mon Bree. You'll have fun and I'm sure it gets boring being surrounded by all those sweaty guys down here in the basement."

Aubrey frowned in indignation as she turned back to soldering the wires in front of her. "I said no, Chloe. Plus, you know my mother would never allow it."

Chloe opened her mouth to argue further but Beca stood up straight and said, "C'mon Chloe. She said no. Let her get back to her Legos and toy cars. We can find someone else."

Aubrey frowned at the insult and tried to not let her shoulders drop to indicate her feelings. She could hear Chloe sigh next to her but she didn't look up until she heard the door to the room shut indicating that they had left.

When they were back in Stacie's car, Chloe turned in her seat to look at both girls. "I'm sorry guys. I really thought we could convince her."

Beca shrugged from where she sat in the backseat. "We couldn't force her. I guess we'll just have to work on teaching you how to sing and play."

* * *

That night Beca found herself laid out on the ratty couch in the garage smoking a joint, one after the other. She would light one, just to forget about it instantly, sucked deep into the whirlwind of her thoughts, until the pile of ash landed on her chest. Beca cursed, swiped the ash down on the floor and lit the next joint. After the second time, she gave up on getting high. The fact that she hadn't moved for hours to eat or use the bathroom was a regular routine for her. Maintaining biological functions always came secondary to her creative tasks. If Stacie didn't make sure to call Luisa and tell her to make sure Beca came in the house, her nights would be spent in the garage with only a few hours of sleep involuntarily forced upon her by an exhausted body.

"Knock Knock, little maus." Beca looked over from where she'd been trying to rearrange the notes of her song so that it was possible for Chloe to play and sing. Luisa stood in the entrance of the garage door leaning against the wall.

"Hey, Lu. Aren't you usually out by this time?" Beca joked. Luisa rolled her eyes and stepped into the small space.

"Ha ha, you're very funny. Maybe you should consider a career in comedy."

"Of course. That's what you love about me. Did Pieter leave yet?"

"Yup," Luisa said, taking a drag of the joint in her mouth before offering it to Beca who sat up and accepted it graciously.

"What about your little ginger friend? And zee tall one?"

"You're the same height as Stacie," Beca said with an eye roll. "And yes, they both left, though Stacie'll probably swing back around here later on after work."

"Hm," Luisa said and pulled a chair over to where Beca was. "Maybe I should be a responsible adult and set some ground rules about visitors coming and going at all hours of das night."

Beca scoffed and handed Luisa back her joint, "Yeah, if you're willing to follow the rules too." At that, they both burst into laughter.

"What is it that you are working on?" Luisa asked, nodding her head towards the notepad now resting on Beca's chest.

"Uhh, just rewriting some chords. I'm trying to make them easier for Chloe to play while she's singing."

"Oh. So, I take it your little visit with das choir girl didn't go well?"

"It went terribly. She outright refused. Too bad, too, since she is a good singer."

"Was she cute?" Luisa joked and Beca rolled her eyes.

"So what if she was? She's like 16."

"Since when are you noble?" Luisa shot back and when she saw Beca try to deny it, she waved her hand to dismiss any rebuttals. "I know what you and Stacie get up to. No need to lie. Just tell me, which one of you decided she was off limits."

Beca sighed. "No one did. Like I said, we weren't there for more than ten minutes before she was all but kicking our asses out the door."

"Well, I'm sorry little Maus. Maybe you might have better luck asking her alone?" Luísa suggested and when Beca raised her eyebrow in confusion she elaborated with, "Well, maybe she does not appreciate being cornered and pressured by zhree people, two of whom she does not know."

"And what, you think going back there and asking her by myself will change her mind?"

Luisa shrugged, "I don't know. Despite being a little troll, you can be convincing when you want to." She chuckled at Beca's indignant scoff at the "troll" comment. "All I'm saying is, if she's das singer zhat makes your music mean something, you must convince her zhat your music is das only music zhat will give her singing meaning."

Beca sighed as she digested Luisa's words before smirking and saying, "You're cheesy as hell, you know that?"

Luisa rolled her eyes. She stood up and pointed to Beca's Fender next to them. "Mind if I plug in?" Beca shrugged and watched the tall German stand.

"I'll keep it low. I'll even play you to sleep." Beca didn't answer and laid back down, figuring she could do with a few hours of sleep as she allowed herself to digest Luísa's advice. As she closed her eyes and let herself slip away, aided by the THC in her system, she heard her amp crackle to life, and then crackle again as Luisa plugged in. She strummed and tuned and strummed again. Luisa played a few random chords to adjust the volume. The tone was like honey, better than most of what Beca had ever gotten out of the amp, and her voice was hoarse but still warm and passionate, but there was a darkness in it, revealing all those places in Luisa's mind that Beca had seen her disappear into.

 _Rows of houses, all bearing down on me_ _  
_ _I can feel their blue hands touching me_

Her song crept over Beca as she drifted off, the room spinning ever so slightly. She rolled onto her side facing the back of the couch, pulled up her knees and put her hands up together by her chin, as if Luisa's music was a blanket she could gather around her.

* * *

It was two nights later when Beca peddled past the city lines into Washington, her legs burning from the long ride. After stopping at a convenience store for a bottle of water, she got back on her bike and made her way to Chloe's house, knowing Aubrey lived in the house next door. She placed her feet on the ground to balance her bike as she tried to figure out which window was possibly Aubrey's. However, she didn't have to think too long because the girl in question walked up to the window on the second floor above the patio awning and Beca watched curiously as she quickly slipped out of the window, landing softy on the awning before making her way down to the ground using the gutters situated against the house. Beca remained where she was, not wanting Aubrey to see her and waited to see what she would do. She watched as Aubrey quickly grabbed her bike where it sat against the back door of the house and quickly made her way down the drive way. Beca waited a few minutes before following the blonde.

As the minutes drew on, Beca wondered where exactly (and why) she was following Aubrey. After another ten minutes, she watched Aubrey stop at a small bar. To say she was surprised would be an understatement. She waited as Aubrey locked up her bike and disappear inside the building. Its front was just a door off the street and two big windows, one with a Heineken sign switched off. The windows were too dirty, and the inside was too dark, to see anything at all. But there was no doubt: the faint music she could hear was coming from the door Aubrey just disappeared through. Beca counted to 300 before crossing the street and making her way inside, curiosity pulling her into the suspicious place. She looked around the hazy room for Aubrey but didn't ponder too long because that's when she heard a familiar voice filling the room. Beca turned in the direction of the voice and found

Beca watched as the blonde pushed her glasses up onto her face, a habit of hers that Beca was noticing, and listened as her eyes slipped shut and she seemed to lose herself to the song.

" _My funny valentine. Sweet comic valentine."_

It was a song that Beca had heard before, from her various wedding gigs but never had she heard it sound so sensual and dare she say, erotic. Aubrey's voice was soft and comforting, like her mother's hands when she was old enough to watch them swing as she walked away but not old enough to realize she wasn't coming back. She had never heard such an enchanting sound and the effect it had on her was unheard of. What Chloe had played for them was nothing compared to this.

 _Is your figure less than Greek  
Is your mouth a little weak  
When you open it to Speak  
Are you smart?_

The song washed over Beca in a wave, echoing all around her until it was the only sound that she could hear. Aubrey wasn't in a hurry but enjoying every note for itself, rather than looking forward to the next note, until the song's end. For Beca, the song would have no end; it couldn't possible. The song was forever.

Although to call the sounds that came out of Aubrey's mouth singing was a bit of an understatement. That word suddenly became too dull and simply unable to describe the countless range of sounds she made. She seduced and hypnotized the crowd, making everyone forget where or even who they were. She clearly studied vocals because she sung with her diaphragm but it didn't matter because her voice held a passion that classical training could never teach. In this dank bar, she wasn't a lead soprano in a choir. On the contrary, she was a young Stevie Knicks, Jimmy Page's guitar given vocals. This had to be how gold diggers felt after a long day of washing tons of dirt and finally finding a fist-sized piece of pure gold.

" _Everyday is Valentine's day"_

Beca stood up with everyone else in the room and cheered, watching as Aubrey stepped back from the microphone, shyly covering her mouth as if the spell she was under by singing had broken. Whistles and cheers continued to fill the room and at that moment Beca knew this was the voice they needed for their band if they wanted any chance of being successful. Aubrey was their lead singer and Beca wouldn't rest until she made it happen.

* * *

 _ **So, I wanted to make Luisa and Pieter sound at least somewhat authentic and not like a German characteur.**_ _ **I'd imagine someone that has been in the us as long as Luisa is, in this story, would have have a good command of the language but from the various forums I looked through, the 'th' sound is still very hard for some German speakers because the sound doesn't exist in German. Also, for those of you who missed the update I made to the last chapter,**_ ** _I've uploaded to tumblr the infor for Beca's solo album that she talked about in chapter 1. It's a pain to put urls here so if you just search the tag on tumblr "when the music fades (pp)" or "when the music fades" or even my user name, it should come up. I'll be uploading the information for each Bella's album as they're mentioned in the story and you will be able to find them the same way._**


	5. Et tu, Cynthia Rose?

**Chapter 5 Et tu, Cynthia Rose?**

Did you ever hear what I told you  
Did you ever read what I wrote you  
Did you ever listen to what we played  
Did you ever let in what the world said  
Did we get this far just to feel your hate  
Did we play to become only pawns in the game  
How blind can you be, don't you see  
You chose the long road but we`ll be waiting

-Bye Bye Beautiful by Nightwish

* * *

"What are they doing here, Rose?" Aubrey's question shattered the quiet before them, her voice lowered to an angry, almost violent hiss.

Beca stood slightly off to the side watching as Cynthia Rose stood and tried to calm Aubrey down. Beca, while as angry and having the same questions as Aubrey, chose to remain quiet and watch instead. Like everyone, she had kept tabs on her former bandmates, but she hadn't seen or heard from Aubrey in the past twenty years and she had to admit, Aubrey looked good. Her hair was shorter, curlier and certainly darker than the last time she saw her. She was obviously more mature, and seemed to have permanently forgone her glasses for contacts since she wasn't squinting her eyes at every turn. With her blush pink blazer and white designer pants, she exuded a confidence that Beca only seen while she was on stage.

Cynthia Rose reached out to Aubrey, only for the angry woman to snatch her arm out of Cynthia Rose's grasp. Aubrey then turned her head and levelled her livid countenance at Beca. "Aren't you going to say something?" Her face was red with anger and her tone a barely contained scream. However, for a split second, her eyes softened in confusion before the anger reappeared and Beca realized she'd been caught staring. Clearing her throat, Beca looked away and sighed. She _was_ upset that Fat Amy had tricked her into meeting with the entire band but yelling about it wasn't going to change anything. She simply shrugged, biting her lip to hold in a smirk once she saw how her indifference only served to anger Aubrey further.

Beca glanced over to Chloe and was surprised that she seemed almost happy—relieved—to see everyone again.

"How about everyone take a seat—" Emily suggested only for Aubrey to cut her off with a glare.

"I'm not sitting anywhere until someone tells me why there are rumors—and god help, it better be a rumor—of a Bellas reunion tour."

Chloe nodded, "Yeah. What the hell, Em?"

Beca glanced at Cynthia Rose who stared back silently pleading for help. With an audible sigh, Beca gestured to the table, "How about we sit down and talk about this before we're kicked out of this place." She slid into the booth to sit next to Fat Amy and Cynthia Rose smiled at her in gratitude. She gave a nod in response. Chloe sat in the remaining empty seat and everyone looked at Aubrey expectantly. Aubrey, who stood with her arms cross, rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth as she grabbed a chair from the empty table next to them and sat down.

The waitress came over and refilled their water glasses and told them she'd be back when they were ready to place their orders.

"No need to wait," Fat Amy said, and picked up the plastic menu in front of her. "Can I have the chicken fried steak with extra gravy and instead of the mash potatoes, can I have hash browns? You know, the shredded ones, not that patty thing." The waitress nodded and looked at everyone else expectantly. Chloe ordered a coffee and everyone else declined to order anything. Beca waited until the waitress took their menus and walked away. She looked at Fat Amy and raised an eyebrow, amusement tinting her features. "I see you still eat the same, Ames."

Fat Amy laughed, "You know me, tater tot. Now that I can afford it, I'm never going to go hungry ever again if I can help it."

Aubrey rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair with her legs cross. her arms folded across her sternum and the fingers of her right hand massaging her forehead to stymie a migraine. "Now that we're all reacquainted," she bit out through clenched teeth, "Can someone please start talking. Please tell me that this is just some trumped up fan theory and you three didn't go behind our backs and do something as vacuous as book a tour."

"Vacuous?" Fat Amy asked.

"It means 'stupid,'" Beca replied looking up from where she'd been pouring packets of sugar into a pile on the table. She bit her lip to, one again, stifle a grin at the murderous glare Aubrey gave Fat Amy. However, before Aubrey could follow her glare with a scathing comment, Cynthia Rose spoke up.

"Aubrey, Beca, Chloe, it's been twenty years since our first LP. We needed to do this for the fans."

Beca looked at Chloe who was staring at Cynthia Rose and chewing her bottom lip as if debating whether she should speak up. The waitress came over with Fat Amy's meal and Chloe's offer.

Aubrey released an audible sigh when the waitress left the table, and held the bridge of her nose as she tried to take steady breaths to calm down. "Did you not think it was pertinent to inform the _entire_ band before making such a stupid decision?" She dropped her hand from her face and glared at Cynthia Rose, Fat Amy, and Emily.

Emily sighed, "Aubrey, you know if we asked, you would have said no."

"Besides, it's not like you're easy to get in contact with," Fat Amy mumbled from where she was cutting her steak.

"And why do you think that is?" Aubrey bit back. "And even if I wanted to entertain this fantasy you have of a big happy reunion, I teach. I can't just drop everything to jump on a bus for a year."

Chloe nodded and lowered her coffee cup from her mouth to say, "Yeah, she's right. I teach as well."

"And we thought of that," Cynthia Rose said. "That's why we only scheduled a few shows during the summer. If it doesn't work out, then you guys can stop once September rolls around."

Fat Amy tried to lighten the mood, interjecting with, "We won't even have to worry about drawing cards for the big bed on the bus. We can actually afford a jet now."

Aubrey rolled her eyes, "Yes, because having a jet is what's important." She shook her head and said, "No. I'm not doing it. Of all the asinine things that I expect from those two," she said, her eyes fleeting to Emily and Fat Amy for a second before returning to focus on Cynthia Rose, "I'd at least thought you respected me enough not to go behind my—"

"Enough, Aubrey!" Emily shouted, irritated with Aubrey's histrionics. "The three of us invested a lot of time and money into making this tour happen. If you don't feel the fans deserve it, well we damn sure deserve not to have our money wasted. So, get over your fucking feelings and sign the damn contract."

Aubrey's mouth opened slightly in thinly veiled shock at the normally quiet and mild mannered pianist's outburst. Fat Amy reached across the table and placed a hand on Emily's forearm to calm her. She waited until Emily stopped shaking in anger before looking at Beca, Aubrey, and Chloe.

In a rare moment of seriousness from the Australian, Fat Amy said, "I'm broke. The last of what I had went to this and if it doesn't happen, then I'm back to playing on paint buckets for change at Penn station."

"You know we would never let that happen," Cynthia Rose said and Fat Amy smiled softly at her before continuing.

"I'm not like you guys who can go off and do other stuff. I only know how to beat a drum and playing with you guys was the best. Playing together made us _so happy_. Can you fault us for wanting that back?" Her eyes met each of theirs before finally landing on Beca's. "C'mon, Becs. You can't tell me you don't miss it."

 _Beca Mitchell looked over from here she was tuning her Explorer, interrupted by familiar chords filling the small space. While it cost thousands to gain the smooth tone of her Gibson, she couldn't say the same for the teal Stratocaster being stummed by Chloe._

 _Beca rolled her eyes, "Chlo, why do you insist on playing that piece of shit?" She asked, gesturing to the cheap tattered instrument in her girlfriend's hand._

 _Chloe grinned and said, "Everyone doesn't have the luxury of lifting guitars from their jobs."_

 _Beca scoffed, "I didn't steal it. I borrowed it…and then I quit."_

" _More like you were fired," Stacie chimed in as she walked past with her camcorder in one hand and a beer in the other._

 _Beca rolled her eyes and mumbled "semantics" as the rest of the band started to laugh._

 _Chloe leaned over and said, "Besides, you sold me this guitar."_

" _Well damn, I'm sorry," Beca said and Chloe giggled._

" _You can make up for it, ya know."_

" _Oh really?" Beca smirked and leaned in until their lips touched. Beca adjusted her strap to push her guitar behind her to move closer to Chloe and deepen the kiss. They ignored the bright flashing light of Stacie's camera, too invested in the other. It was only when Aubrey passed them and mumbled, "Get a room,"—her tone holding a cold bitterness, did they pull apart._

 _Beca grinned and turned towards Aubrey, "We won't need a room because after tonight, we'll have enough money to buy a house."_

 _Stacie peeked from behind her camera to chime in with, "Two houses."_

 _Beca nodded and looked into her camera lens, "We'll buy anything we want because we're gonna take the world by storm, dammit!"_

Beca frowned and pulled out her phone to call for her driver. There were many reasons she walked away all those years ago, and one of them was why she was preparing to do so now. Being a part of the Bellas did bring her great happiness but it also brought her pain. So much pain that being around the other five women only served to unearth it and remind her of what she lost and what was taken from her. She typed out a quick text and stood before looking at her former bandmates. "We've change. We're never gonna get back to 1993. It's pointless thinking otherwise," she said before turning and walking away.

Cynthia Rose sighed when Beca was out of sight. She looked at Aubrey who stood, preparing to follow Beca's lead and leave. "Look, Bree, Chloe. We really miss you three and this tour gives us the chance to get back to doing what we love. It's been twenty years but I know that no matter how small, a part of you misses singing, the crowds, the music."

Aubrey crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. She glanced over at Chloe before meeting Cynthia Rose's stare, "Well it wasn't _my_ drug problem that broke us up." And just like Beca, Aubrey made her way out of the diner without a glance behind her.

* * *

Sorry this took so long. I feel like I'm becoming redundant with my repeated apologies on every update. But this time the wait was so long because I had to restructure the entire story. I realized that in my stories, the ones I've posted and the ones I haven't, I have a tendency of having Chloe be the bad guy or over time become the bad guy so that mitchsen can happen. That's something I didn't consciously choose to do in my previous stories but it's still there. While I don't write for bechloe, I do support the ship from the sidelines, if that makes sense, and I don't want to constantly make Chloe the scapegoat. So I'm trying to rewrite what I have planned and kinda distribute the blame for the band's breakup a bit more evenly.

Also, have you guys heard the song Sick of Losing Soulmates by dodie. I found it by accident but I just love that song. I'm getting all kinds of Steca feels from it. I don't have the time or energy to dedicate to a full fledged Steca fic but maybe I'll try my hand at a one shot again. What do you guys think about that? I don't know, there's something about rare pairings that just get my blood flowing.


	6. Happiness is Always a Coincidence

Guys, this chapter was like pulling teeth. I got to the point that I just said forget it and hit upload. I know the chapter can be better but if I keep harping on it, I'll never finish the story. So here you go. I'm currently sitting in the library on campus and I'm not going to leave until I have at least a completed draft of the next chapter so hopefully I can get that to you guys by the end of the week. I wanted my update schedule to be a bit more regular but my grad classes are going to take priority so I won't be able to get the two chapters a week like I wanted. I will however, try not to go more than a week and a half without getting a chapter out.

* * *

Chapter 6 **Happiness is always a coincidence.**

 _Dear Mister Fantasy play us a tune  
Something to make us all happy  
Do anything, take us out of this gloom_  
-Dear Mr. Fantasy by Traffic

They say coincidences are the universe trying to tell you something. Like a guardian angel whispering in your ear that this is the path that fate has chosen for you. However, being a scientist and grounded in things that were tangible with the ability to be proven, when Aubrey ran into the two girls Chloe had introduced her to while at the mall with her brother, she refused to believe it was anything but the result of Chloe's machinations.

"I'm telling you, Bree, Beca is all for you being the singer. She even said she's only writing lyrics for you and that we can just practice the music until you 'see sense'," Chloe said. Aubrey rolled her eyes but remained quiet knowing anything she said wouldn't deter Chloe's attempts at persuasion.

Ever since that day in the robotics lab, three weeks before, Chloe had gone out of her way to walk over to Aubrey's house and attempt to persuade her to join their little music project. And according to Chloe, the short guitar player she'd see that day, Beca, was now "100% on board for making you our singer." The first few times Chloe visited, Aubrey just repeated her answer but Chloe was persistent and Aubrey had to resort to other methods including mentioning her mother who wouldn't be persuaded even in the face of someone as tenacious as Chloe. She then reminded Chloe she didn't even like the music they were playing and it would be a disservice to everyone involved if she wasn't fully invested in the music or the band. She tolerated Chloe's taste for that music of which it seemed all they did was scream but she wouldn't subject herself to it if she didn't have to. Aubrey told Chloe all of this, and yet, her neighbor persisted.

Aubrey had initially come to the mall with her older brother, Danny, because she had promised to buy him ice-cream if he'd leave her alone long enough to finish her engine. She had, of course, forgotten her promise not long after she made it but Danny hadn't, thus leading them, along with Chloe, to the small mall downtown on what would otherwise have been a relaxing Saturday afternoon.

"D'you think they'll have chocolate mint this time, Bree?"

"I'm not sure, Dan. We'll just have to see when we get there." She tried not to roll her eyes when her brother huffed and pulled on her arm to urge her to go faster.

Chloe looked at her sympathetically and said, "How about I go get us a table?"

Aubrey pursed her lips and nodded. When the small ice-cream shop, situated between a Payless and a bookstore was insight she released a breath of relief, only to sigh when Danny dropped her hand and ran in the direction of the parlor.

* * *

"Cynthia Rose Lenora Adams, you have five minutes to get your butt out to the car. You know we need to be down at the church before nine."

Cynthia Rose rolled her eyes and waited for the sound of her mother's foot steps to grow faint before turning back to her little sister, "Anyway, like I was saying, this album is special." She turned the vinyl over and pointed to a spot on its back cover. "See, it was signed by all the members including Geezer Butler himself."

"Who's Geezer Butler?"

"Only the greatest bass player ever. C'mon, Nat, you can't have forgotten already. Remember, I played Sabbath last night, 'I am Iron man'" she said, her voice robotic and eerie making the five-year-old in front of her laugh.

Annie jumped up and stretched her arms out to imitate a robot, "I am iron man! I am iron man!"

Cynthia Rose raised her hands in triumph, "that's right. Rock out!" she jumped up as quickly as the superfluous fabric of her dress would allow. "Dun Dun, DunDunDun," she sang as she ran her fore and middle finger along her thigh to mimic strumming a bass.

"Cynthia Rose!"

Cynthia Rose rolled her eyes before standing up straight and lifting her younger sister into her arms, "C'mon, Nat, before mommy turns into a green monster and tries to come up here and eat us," she joked, pocking her sister's cheek. She carried the young girl to the door, grabbing her bass case on the way before making her way downstairs.

"You better had got your butt down here," her mother, Rose, said as Cynthia Rose walked into the kitchen. "I was fixin to come up there and drag you down here myself. And put that child down. She's too big for you to be carrying her around."

Cynthia Rose rolled her eyes and placed Annie down on the floor. She placed her case by the archway that led to the hallway and walked over to her mother who stood by the sink. "Morning, momma," she said, kissing the older woman's cheek. "Where's everybody?"

Rose smiled "Morning, baby. Brandon and Ben already headed out to the car with your father." She turned to check her daughter's clothes before sucking her teeth and running her hand through her daughter's hair instead, "I still can't believe you did this mess to your hair."

Cynthia Rose smirked and flipped a patch of pink curls out of her face, "It looks sick, right?"

Rose frowned, "No it doesn't look _sick_. You look sick _in the head_ for thinking that mess is alright. I oughta hide your tail for messing up your pretty hair. Bad enough you're always hanging around that Spanish girl now she got you out here putting them crazy chemicals in your hair."

Cynthia Rose rolled her eyes again out of view of her mother. "I didn't do this because of Flo."

"Uh huh, and I gave birth to Jesus Christ himself. Before that girl came 'round here starting trouble, you were a good child. Going to church, listening to wholesome _Christian_ music. Now you're off shaving parts of your head and coloring your hair. Now, I was able to tolerate that junk music—"

"Now momma, you know I've always liked punk and metal."

"I don't matter, no how. That girl's the reason you doing all this," Rose said, gesturing to Cynthia Rose's hair again. "I'm going out to the car. You better get something to cover that mess on your head." Rose looked to her younger daughter, "Nathalie Rose Adams, get your hand out that jar. You can sweets _after_ church." She grabbed her youngest daughter's hand and led her out of the house. Cynthia Rose sighed and turned on her heels to head back upstairs to find something to cover her head. Two minutes later she exited the house with her bass in hand and her hair covered by a floral scarf she found in her mother's dresser drawer. Rose frowned, her face unamused at the way Cynthia Rose had tied the scarf.

"I swear, if—" she began when her daughter approached where she stood at the car. Cynthia Rose burst into laughter and handed her instrument to her father who was waiting to load it into the trunk.

"I'm just kidding, momma," she said, reaching up to reconfigure the scarf so that it no longer mirrored a hijab and was instead gathered into a knot the back of her head.

"Keep testing my faith, child," her mother warned. Cynthia Rose continued to laugh, dogging her mother's attempt to swat her behind, as she got into the car beside her brother, Ben. Rose took her place in the passenger seat and they pulled out the driveway and onto the road.

Nearly ten minutes after arriving at the church, Cynthia Rose had separated from her family for the quick rehearsal that was schedule before bible study and went off to meet with the Deacon who oversaw the church band.

"Alright, sounding good," Deacon Clarence said. "But the bridge was a bit rushed. Sister Florencia, I know you can play the notes but I need you to not just play what you see on the sheets in front of you. You gotta feel them. You and Sister Cynthia Rose should always be in sync. You two should be following each other's moves. Now I've seen you do some great things with those fingers of yours, but you don't need to play a thousand notes in a measure for the heck of it. If the notes feel like it should be held, hold it."

Flo nodded and Cynthia Rose cleared her throat and looked away trying not to laugh at the idea that Deacon Clarence would probably have a stroke if he knew what "things" Flo's fingers got up to, or more like into, outside of playing piano at church. Flo glanced back at her and winked when Deacon Clarence wasn't looking, obviously also finding humor in the older man's unintentional innuendo. Luckily for everyone involved, the rehearsal wrapped up ten minutes later without any more double entendres from the Deacon. The small ensemble was allowed to leave with ten minutes to spare before bible study began.

Flo and Cynthia Rose took full advantage of the free time and managed to find an empty closet at the back of the building that would provide some, although temporary, refuge from the watchful eyes of their respective family. They were currently in the small space laughing as Cynthia Rose relayed her mother's reaction to her hair.

"Well you were the one who wanted to be fancy. I told you to just color the tips like I did," Flo said, gesturing to her own dark hair that had been dipped in light blue at its ends.

Cynthia Rose rolled her eyes and pouted, "I like my hair."

Flo grinned and leaned forward to kiss the girl in front of her, "Me too." She coursed her hands through the half of Cynthia Rose's head that was covered in pink ringlets and pulled her girlfriend closer. Cynthia Rose smiled into the kiss and took a step closer until their bodies were flush against the other. However, before the kiss could get to deep, she pulled her head away and smirked at the moan of protest her girlfriend let out. "If we keep going, we're gonna be late for bible study."

Flo rolled her eyes and pulled Cynthia Rose back towards her until their lips were inches apart. "We can ask for forgiveness in opening prayer," she said and connected their lips, silencing any protests Cynthia Rose might have had.

* * *

Aubrey sighed when she finally reached the ice-cream parlor, Cassie's Creamery, and saw that Danny was inside. She pulled open the door and was greeted with a blast of cold air. She walked over to where her brother stood at the counter, his eyes wide as he examined the dozen tubs of ice-cream displayed behind the glass.

Aubrey smiled when he turned towards her and gave her a goofy grin as he said, "they have it, Bree. They've got mint chocolate chip."

Aubrey nodded and smiled brightly, glad that the various parents pulling their children closer to them and away from her brother, went unnoticed by the twenty-two-year-old. Taking her wallet out of her purse, she walked to where the server stood behind the counter and waited for him to notice her. When she noticed that he was staring at her brother longer than appropriate she cleared her throat and frowned at the embarrassed teen when he looked up and mumbled an apology.

"Can I have one scoop of mint chocolate on a regular cone and two scoops of vanilla in a cup, please?"

"Aww, Aubrey can't I have two scoops, please?"

"No. One scoop. Remember how hyper you were the last time you had all of that sugar?"

Danny pouted but didn't argue further, instead turning back towards the ice-cream display. His face soon enough brightened up when the server handed him his cone. Aubrey quickly paid for their treats and directed Danny out of the store and out to the center of the food court where the tables were situated. She was glad that the mall wasn't crowded because it made spotting the head of red hair much easier. They made their way over to Chloe and Aubrey groaned when she realized she wasn't alone.

Aubrey didn't believe in coincidences.

As a scientist at heart, she believed that everything had a cause (even if the cause was unknown by that which is affected). So, this might have seemed like the proverbial universe conspiring against her but Aubrey knew better. She knew Chloe was behind this "coincidence."

Adjusting her glasses, something she found she did when she was concerned about how she'd appear to others, she sighed, inhaling deeply before leading Danny to where Chloe sat chatting with the two girls she had brought to the school in hopes of convincing her to join their band.

"Aubrey!" Chloe called and Aubrey cursed under her breath when the two other girls turned towards her direction and smiled. The shorter one smirked and raised an eyebrow again, chuckling lightly when Aubrey looked away to hide her blush.

"C'mon Aubrey, I saved you a seat. Beca and Stacie, you remember Aubrey, right? And that's her brother Danny."

Danny grinned and waved excitedly before turning his attention back to his ice-cream.

Beca winked at her as she scooted her chair over so that Aubrey could sit in the chair next to her. "Of course, I remember Aubrey." She said, although her tone betrayed something that Aubrey couldn't quite place. Intrigue, maybe?

Chloe smiled brightly as she said, "Beca was just telling me how she stopped by the mall to try and find someone to fix her broken pickup on her guitar. I told her that you're really good with that stuff."

Aubrey glared at her friend but Chloe smirked and looked away as if oblivious to the look that Aubrey was giving her.

Beca turned in her seat to face her directly as she said, "And I told Chloe that it would be awesome if you could help me out. That is, if you want to help. I would hate to impose and get in the way of robotics or choir practice." She said with a wink.

Aubrey found herself leaning back the closer Beca got and she nervously pushed her glasses onto her face as she stammered out, "I—I guess that would be alright."

Beca smiled. An actual smile, not that suggestive smirk that she's given Aubrey so far. "Great. I'll stop by tomorrow."

* * *

First, I want to say the weirdest thing happened to me today. Well it was more like I was being weird. I was in the supermarket and there was this girl with her hair shaved in a mohawk with the remaining hair braided. the braids were each black that bled into a neon green. It was exactly how I pictured Cynthia Rose's hair to be (later on in the story, not now because she could never get away with that in her religious household) but couldn't find any online pictures to draw from. So, doing something I would never do, I walked up to this complete stranger asked for a picture of her hair. Luckily she was an artist as well and completely understood and allowed me to take a picture. One of the perks of living in L.A. I guess.

Anyway, as far as the story, I hope you guys like this update. I introduced Cynthia Rose, a character I felt was never truly developed in the films and was, at best, a poor representation of a lesbian woman of color and, at worst, a stereotype of what a lesbian woman of color would be. I've wanted to write a story where I could develop her but haven't really had the chance, or felt I could do it correctly, until just recently. Obviously, I'll go a bit more into her backstory as the story progresses as well as expand upon the bit of information I revealed about Aubrey. As is the case with most of my stories, I try to incorporate the supporting cast that kinda falls in the shadow of the main three characters and Flo was the chosen character for this one. Not quite sure how much I want to incorporate Flo but I know for certain that she'll be in at least one more chapter.

Umm, i think that's all I have to say. I'm not sure if anyone even reads these notes but if you do, that's awesome. I feel like I'm talking to you guys personally and it makes this whole process of writing fanfiction that much better. Anyway, thanks for reading and if you can, please leave a review. They really tell me what's working and what's not.


	7. Why Can't I Just Let Her Go?

I don't know if any of you guys that are reading my story are, or know someone in the area affected by Hurricane Irma but if you are, I'm praying for your safety. I've never lived in a place where there was a risk of a huge storm destroying everything and I can't imagine the fear and uncertainty that comes with such a disaster. When I lived in NJ the worst we had was hurricane Sandy and while it did wipe away the shore, the damage was minor when compared to what we've seen and will see in the coming days.

* * *

Chapter 7 How Can I Just Let Her Go?

 _Back in the day, I can recall that,  
My thoughts were unclouded and sage  
There was no black staining the walls of my memories  
Now there's a haze pushing me sideways  
And leaving me nothing to gain  
Taking me back, locking me cold in disparity_

 _Where was I meant to be?  
I feel I'm lost in a dream_

-Unleashed by Epica

Cynthia Rose knew she had taken a huge risk deceiving Aubrey to get her here. However, watching her walk away, it felt more permanent than it did when she awoke with the rest of the band on that Sunday morning in 1998 to find Aubrey had left. She also knew that Aubrey still hated Beca for breaking her heart (whether it was intentional or not depends on who you ask) and Beca still had animosity toward Aubrey for leaving in the middle of the night and never giving her the chance to right her wrongs. Yet, despite all that, Cynthia Rose knew Beca could be convinced if Aubrey agreed to the tour. She had hoped she would have been able to at least convince Aubrey out of loyalty to her and the deep friendship they had. After today, Cynthia Rose knew she had a better chance of drawing blood from a stone than getting Aubrey to even answer her phone calls after the stunt she pulled.

With an extended sigh, she turned and looked at Chloe. Cynthia Rose could see the hurt on her face at Aubrey's comment. "Chloe, you know she didn't mean—" she began only for Chloe to hold her hand up to cut her off.

"It's—" she paused to clear her throat, "It's alright. She did mean it and she's right, you know," she said and looked away, regret staining her eyes.

It was Fat Amy's turn to huff in resignation, "Look, Chloe, we know it's been a long time. We've all obviously changed in the last 14 years since we've seen each other but the fans really want this."

Chloe worried her lip before making eye contact with Fat Amy, "I've put this part of my life behind me, Amy. Do I regret how we ended or the part I played in it? Yes, I do, but I've come to terms with it and made peace with my past…" She paused and watched the thumb that traced the lettering on the coffee mug in her hand as she tried to gather her thoughts. "I had to or it would've killed me otherwise. I've dealt with my demons and can look back fondly on our times as a band, despite all the sadness and hurt that tainted those years. I'm not running from our past so I'm not the one you should be having this pep talk with. If anything, it's Aubrey and Beca that are standing in the way of this tour." She glanced at her watch and grabbed her purse. She stood up, "I need to get back to the school. My next class starts in an hour."

"We understand," Cynthia Rose said. "We'll, let you go but we just want to know, if we can get Aubrey and Beca on board for the tour, are you in?"

Chloe offered a sad smile, "I've…I've wronged those two in the worst way so while I would love nothing more than to be on stage with you guys, I don't think it's up to me. If by some chance you get Beca and Aubrey to do the tour and they don't want me there, then I won't be." She smiled at Fat Amy and Emily, "It was nice seeing you all again and I'm sorry that today didn't go as you had hoped." She pulled her purse onto her shoulder and walked away from the table. She soon after, disappeared down the street from which she came.

DWDWDWDW

Beca scurried as fast as her sock covered feet would allow on her hardwood floors. She made her way through the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom, trying her hardest not to fall. "Hold on a sec, Spence, I know I have the disk somewhere." She flipped the switch and made her way to her closet, standing on her toes to grab the box where she had stored the unused music of her first album. She walked over to her bed and took a seat, pulling the box into her lap. She put her phone on speaker and placed it beside her before opening the box. "And you're sure you can use that song?" She asked as she scavenged through the box.

"Yeah. I think if we take the instrumentation from it, it should fit with those lyrics you were working out the other day."

Beca continued to search through the box, "Alright just give me a sec—" she paused, her eyes catching a glint of silver. She reached for it, pulling it out. She ran her thumb along the diamonds bordering the forgotten dog tag gifted to each member of the band by their manager, Gail in appreciation for "taking a chance on me and having faith that I could get you guys to the top." Her eyes traced the engraved letter B as her mind took her back to the night she received the piece of jewelry.

 _Beca watched from where she stood in the threshold of the bathroom door amused as Aubrey looked down her nose, unaware of her presence, attempting to clasp the necklace. Beca chucked when Aubrey's glasses slipped from her face and the singer cursed under her breath. Beca pushed off from the wall she was leaning against and walked over to Aubrey, grabbing her hands with her own._

" _Let me," she said. Aubrey turned and nodded, handing her the necklace. Beca smirked and stepped behind her, deftly hooking the dog tag around her neck. Instinctively, her hands caressed Aubrey's shoulder, "a beautiful necklace for a beautiful girl."_

 _Beca's breath on Aubrey's neck made her shiver and gasp. She turned and used her fingers to push her glasses up her face so that she could see Beca clearly. "B-Beca, I need to tell you something."_

 _Beca nodded, indicating she should continue._

" _Well, um…I've wanted to tell you this for a while but I haven't just been really afraid of how you'd react."_

 _Beca placed a hand in comfort on Aubrey's arm and squeezed lightly, "You can tell me whatever it is."_

 _Aubrey nodded and exhaled softly. "Ok. I—I think…no I know that I'm in l—"_

" _Beca, Aubrey, the pizza's here." Fat Amy said, peeking her head in the door._

" _Alright. Just give us a second," Beca said and turned back to Aubrey. "What were you saying?"_

 _Aubrey smiled, although it seemed insincere to Beca. "It's fine. I'll tell you later. We better get out there before Amy eats all the pizza."_

 _Beca scoffed and the two walked towards the door. "Tell me something I don't know. We don't call her Fat Amy for nothing. For her to be so damn skinny, she's like a bottomless pit."_

 _Aubrey laughed and Beca couldn't help but smile seeing the mirth overtake the obvious worry that had been on her face. Before they reached the kitchen, Beca grabbed Aubrey's hand to stop her.  
"You'll tell me later what you wanted to say before Amy interrupted, right?" _

_Aubrey smiled, a genuine one this time. "Yeah, I will. I promise."_

"Still there, Beca?"

Beca blinked a few times to clear her mind, "Um y-yeah." She dropped the dog tag back into the box and continued her search, "I'm still here."

DWDWDWDW

Aubrey sat down on her bed with a huff. She was more emotionally fatigued than anything but having to stay on campus grading exams didn't help. Pissed didn't even adequately describe her ire. While she hadn't spoken to Cynthia Rose in years, she thought, of all the women, they had parted on good terms. Cynthia Rose knew, she _knew_ how Beca had hurt her and she must have known what seeing Beca today would do to her. Aubrey sighed, pushing aside her anger knowing it wouldn't do her any good to let it stew within. She lifted her arms to unbutton her sleeves and slipped her watch off. She placed the timepiece on her side table and pulled open the drawer to search for her eye drops. Her eyes had been bothering her all day and she mused to herself that a few days without her contacts might help. Not to mention, a part of her missed her black rimmed glasses.

After treating the dryness in her eyes, she slipped on her glasses just as her phone chimed signaling a text message.

 _Marc 9:33 pm: Jennifer asked me to remind you to bring in that anthology you said you'd loan her._

A few seconds later another message came in.

 _Marc 9:34 pm: Haven't heard from you since early this afternoon. Is everything ok?_

Aubrey sighed and didn't bother responding. How could she explain to him that she was still reeling from being forced to see Beca again? She never told him the extent of the band's breakup and she certainly couldn't tell him now that the women she had fallen in love with at seventeen years old was being injected back into her life, although through no fault of her own.

With a deep exhale, she stood and made her way out of her room and into her attic where she kept all the textbooks she kept from her own university days. Flipping the light switch, she looked around the small space before spotting the pile of boxes lined against the wall on the far right.

Glancing around to make sure there weren't any spider webs to inadvertently walk into, she made her way over to the boxes. None of them were labeled so she'd have to search through the boxes to see which held the books she looked for. When she moved to Athens she made the move on her own and thus distributed the books among the boxes with clothes to make their transport easier. She pulled the first box off the top of the pile and kneeled on the floor with it.

Pulling open the flaps of the box she dug around the clothes in the box, blindly search for anything that felt like a textbook. When she felt a smooth metal object she frowned and took hold of it in her hand. She pulled it out to investigate only to frown further when she realized what it was. Her eyes widened and then narrowed at the long-forgotten piece of jewelry.

 _She'd heard about it on the radio. She was on her way home from the library where she'd go to be alone when the news broke. Damien Steel had killed himself. One gunshot to the head. While it was tragic—the death of someone so talented and so young—the only thing Aubrey could think of was Beca. He was her favorite guitarist, the one who made her pick up the instrument in the first place. Aubrey pressed on the gas, going as fast as she could while remaining within the speed limit._

 _Beca was still struggling with sobriety and Aubrey knew the grief of losing yet another person would be enough to knock her off the wagon. She walked into their house and greeted Cynthia Rose and Fat Amy who were sitting on the couch watch television. Before she could inquire about Beca's whereabouts Cynthia Rose said, "We tried to find her but couldn't. She said she was going to see the city but we didn't even know where to look. We figured you would know."_

 _Aubrey nodded as she released a sigh of relief. She placed her grocery bags on the floor and instructed them to put the food away before she turned around and exited the house. "Seeing the city" was Beca's way of saying she would be on the roof of their old apartment. Aubrey made her way into downtown Atlanta, the radio playing Damien Steel's music in the background in between the disc jockey cutting in with updates surrounding the late musician._

 _When she arrived at the building she quickly parked, lucky that the parking manager remembered her and allowed her to park her car for free. She made her way to the elevator and took it to the top floor before making her way down the hallway toward the door that would take her to the roof. She opened the door and when she heard the gentle tones of a guitar, then low singing, she knew she'd been right in finding Beca. She told Aubrey once before that staring out at the city and seeing how insignificant she was compared to the thousands before her eyes calmed her._

 _Aubrey recognized the song, having heard Beca play it hundreds of times. She walked further up the stairs and turned the corner. She spotted Beca sitting on a small bench not far from where Aubrey stood, her head against the wall and her Taylor Acoustic in her hand. Her eyes were closed as she strummed and sang along with the voice coming from the small radio on the ground near her feet._

 **A champagne supernova in the sky  
Wake up the dawn and ask her why  
A dreamer dreams, she never dies  
Wipe that tear away now from your eye**

 **Slowly walking down the hall  
Faster than a cannonball  
Where were you while we were getting high?**

 _Somehow Beca sensed her presence because instead of singing the next verse her hand fell to her side and she turned to look at Aubrey._

" _I—I just wanted to check on you," Aubrey said and walked over to her. She took the seat next to Beca, "I heard what happened. I know how much he meant to you."_

" _It's stupid. I didn't even know him," Beca said bitterly, but Aubrey could hear the sadness in her voice._

" _Yes, that may be true, you didn't know him," Aubrey began, reaching out to place her hand on Beca's, "but that doesn't mean you can't be affected by his death."_

" _Yeah," Beca said after some time. She perched her guitar next to her on the wall. "I just…it scares me. Will I ever get so unhappy with this life, with our success that I'll do the same?"_

 _Aubrey glared at her and firmly said, "No. I won't let you."_

 _Beca stared at Aubrey, her dark eyes watched her intently. They studied Aubrey, crawling inside her in search of something. Aubrey wasn't sure if she found it but Beca soon looked away and rested her head on Aubrey's shoulder. Together they stared out at the view of the city. It was beautiful, the sun yellowing the skyline casting a beautiful glow around the buildings in front of them._

" _I was surprised when Rose said you were here. Traffic was bad on my drive here. It must have been a nightmare for you," Aubrey said._

" _I just wanted to be alone."_

" _But you told them where you were going. I couldn't have been the only person to figure out you'd be up here."_

" _Well, I've been here a while and no one came." Beca said. She tilted her head up to look at Aubrey, "That's why you're my best friend, Bree. I knew you'd come and find me."_

 _Aubrey's heart clenched at Beca's admission but forced herself to ignore it. She'd grown used to Beca saying such things and eliciting such reactions in her. She learned long ago to not let those feelings get carried away because nothing would come of it anyway. Beca had Chloe for that and Aubrey said as much. "I'm sure Chloe would have come when she returned home and found you weren't there."_

 _Beca shrugged and focused back at the scenery in front of them. "Maybe. But honestly, with the way I'm feeling, I didn't want my girlfriend here to comfort me. I wanted my_ best friend _, you."_

" _Bec—"_

" _I'm serious, Bree. I love Chloe but…I don't know," she trailed off, her hand coming up to mess with the dog tag around Aubrey's neck. "It's different with you. You calm me in ways no one else can or ever will."_

Aubrey pulled herself from the memory and angrily threw the neckless at the wall across from her. She wanted to be as far as possible from the neckless and every memory it brought with it.

DWDWDWDW

When Chloe arrived home, she pulled her car into her garage and turned the engine off. She sat still in the driver's seat for a long time. After leaving the diner that afternoon, she returned to the high school where she worked and was unable to sit and digest the meeting until this moment. Both of her hands gripped the steering wheel as she pondered what had happened earlier that day. While she had told Fat Amy and the rest of the women that she'd made peace with her past—and she was telling the truth—seeing them all today, Beca and Aubrey included, unearthed a longing in her that she didn't realize she harbored. Her fingers curled around the wheel and squeezed until her knuckles were white. Her breathing picked up and soon enough she was starting to sob. Leaning forward, Chloe rested her forehead against the steering wheel and squeezed her eyes closed, forcing herself to slow her rapid heartrate with calm, deep breaths. God, how she had missed the five women. It was so much easier when they were all situated in different parts of the country. Easier when they remained a fond memory she'd reflect upon when one of their songs came on the radio.

But seeing them today, seeing the anger that Beca and Aubrey still held, especially Aubrey, it was like 1997 all over again. Yet, despite the animosity present during the conversation, Chloe could feel the group dynamic that made it possible for them to once grow as close as sisters.

Sisters that hated her 15 years later.

Chloe took another breath, swallowing the sob in her throat as she tried to regain her composure and once she did she exited her car and walked into her house. It was quiet except for the distant patter of cat paws on the step. Mr. Piddles, a grey British shorthair who she took in as a stray from the bitter cold missing an eye and patches of fur the year before, met her at the door and gave Chloe a series of welcoming meows.

"Hi there, buddy." She bent down and picked the cat up, and carried him up to the stairs to her bedroom. When they arrived, Mr. piddles jumped from her arms and ran into the room, depositing himself on the bed. Chloe chuckled and placed her purse on the chair near the door.

"Alright, get the bed warm for me," she joked to her pet, "I'm going to grab a shower."

Thirty minutes later Chloe had finished her nightly routine and made her way back down stairs and into the kitchen, Mr. Piddles following not far behind. She refilled his food bowls before making a cup of tea for herself. As she sat down to drink the warm beverage, she opened her laptop and couldn't help but google The Bellas. Fat Amy was right, there was a lot of excitement about this tour and Chloe smiled softly when she clicked on a link that took her to twitter. A fan posted "Me when I found out the Bellas were reuniting" and below it was a gif of Jonah hill freaking out. She continued to search "Bellas Reunion" tag, her hand unconsciously taking hold of the dog tag around her neck. Several of the tweets were posts of some fans sharing the first time they'd heard the Bellas: "I lost my virginity with 'I Get Off' playing in the background. It was her idea. She was a real classy one" or how the band helped them through a tough time in their life: _"I played_ Degradation Trip _on repeat all through sophomore year of high school. That album literally walked me off a ledge."_ There were many more written in a similar vein. Seeing these fans reminiscence made it nearly impossible for Chloe to not do the same.

" _Aubrey, do you realize_ ridiculous _you look right now?" Fat Amy said, reaching behind her to take the joint being offered to her by Stacie. Aubrey's face contorted in confusion as she pulled the spoon out of her mouth and placed it back into the jar of peanut butter in her hand. "What? Why?"_

 _Fat Amy rolled her eyes, "Maybe it's best I not say."_

 _Chloe didn't try to stifle her laughter along with Cynthia Rose and Aubrey looked to Stacie who smiled at her sympathetically. "She's just saying, with the peanut butter and your high school Robotics t-shirt," Stacie began to explain, "it's not hard to tell that you're the youngest of all of us."_

 _Aubrey frowned and murmured, "it's not my fault Beca won't let me drink or smoke with you guys."_

 _Beca glanced over from where she was silently drinking her beer and said, "You've already said you're not into drinking and smoking. If your really want to do it, then I can't stop you, but, I'm not going to let them pressure you into growing up before you're ready. So, eat your peanut butter if that's what you want and they're going to stop giving you shit about it," she said with the last bit directed towards the rest of the group._

 _Chloe bit her lip to hide her mirth as she said, "She's right, Bree. Don't rush to become a pothead like us. In the meantime, I'm sure Beca can teach you how to be a buzzkill instead," and she and Cynthia Rose burst into laughter again. Aubrey rolled her eyes and Beca flipped them off. When she calmed down from her laughing fit nearly five minutes later, Chloe bumped Beca's shoulder with her own. Unlike she and Cynthia Rose, when Beca smoked weed, she grew quiet and introspective and was prone to wander off by herself. This was the case today when the rest of the band found her on the roof of their apartment staring at the St. Louis skyline around them with the sun licking the top of the skyscrapers, the streets below them starting to fill with life and the radio playing softly in the background. "Aww, c'mon Becs. Lighten up. You don't have to solve all the world's problems today."_

 _Beca rolled her eyes, although Chloe could see her trying to fight a smile. She and Beca had become …something. She wasn't sure if it would be considered dating but after the first few times they fell into bed together, she noticed that Beca no longer held the "sharing is caring attitude" towards any girls that Stacie picked up in bars. Chloe knew, however, no matter what they were (or weren't), they had agreed to keep whatever it was between them for now to see where it went. There was no point in altering the band dynamic if nothing came of their relationship._

" _Have you heard from Gail?" Fat Amy asked and Beca shook her head. She took the joint being passed to her and took a hit. "It hasn't been that long," she answered, her voice higher in pitch as she held the smoke in her lungs. "Give her a few more days and then we'll call her," she finished, exhaling the fumes._

" _Do you think she'll like our demo?" Aubrey asked and Chloe couldn't help but smile softly at how adorable the singer could be with her insecurities._

" _I don't see why not. It was solid stuff and your voice was amazing," Beca said. Chloe watched Aubrey's eyes light up at the praise before looking down to hide what Chloe saw was the beginning of a blush. She watched Aubrey curiously. In the first couple of months since introducing the two, Chloe had wondered if Aubrey had a bit of a crush on Beca and had gladly got out of the way to allow her to act on her feelings. She knew Beca was never one to not go after what she wanted and because nothing happened between her and Aubrey by the time she, herself, had sex with Beca, Chloe figured Beca must not have felt the same as Aubrey,_

" _Look who's lost in her head now," Beca said, bumping Chloe's leg with her own to knock her from her reverie. Chloe smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her before remembering where they were. Beca frowned at her, her eyes flickering over to Aubrey before looking back at her. It was then Chloe's turn to frown but she didn't say anything, knowing she couldn't address her confusion at that moment anyway._

" _There isn't shit on the radio," Stacie said as she switched through the stations on the small radio in her lap. When Bon Jovi's voice filtered out of the device, she moved to change the station again but stopped when she heard Beca groan. "What's wrong, Becs? Don't Like Bon Jovi?"_

" _No," Beca said. "Now can you put on something else?"_

 _Cynthia Rose jumped up and began playing an imaginary bass along with the song. "Why not, huh? You gotta admit it's catchy."_

 _Chloe laughed knowing the bassist couldn't stand the New Jersey band either but wanted to mess with Beca. The rest of the women soon joined in singing the popular song in an attempt to get Beca to break, admit she knew the song, and join in. Cynthia Rose was right, after all. It was a catchy popular song and they'd all be lying if they said they didn't at least know the chorus. Chloe got on her knees in front of Beca, using her beer bottle as a fake microphone, "It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not. We've got each other and that's a lot," she sang and poked Beca's cheek. Beca was trying her hardest not to smile before jumping in surprise when Aubrey appeared over her should and continued with, "For love, we'll give it a shot."_

 _Beca rolled her eyes before belting out, "Whoa! We're half way there. Whoa, livin' on a prayer." Chloe and the rest of the group raised their arms to cheer as they finished out the song._

 _Unlike everyone else, save maybe Cynthia Rose, Chloe left behind a family that she loved dearly and still missed to this day. Yet, being here on this roof, seeing the five women laughing and singing cheesy pop songs, made it all worth it. It made her believe that she had a found a second family, one that she'd never have to give up._

Chloe placed her cooled tea in the sink. She headed up to her bedroom and climbed into bed. As she laid there, she pulled the dog tag from around her neck and ran her thumb across its face where the cursive B was engraved. She really did miss the family she had built with the Bellas. As she dozed off to sleep, her last conscious thought was to reconsider Cynthia Rose, Fat Amy, and Emily's offer to give her a chance of having that family back.


	8. Begging for Change

**Chapter 8 Begging for change**

" _Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time."_

 _-Thomas Merton._

"Thank you, sir," followed the sound of change hitting the bottom of a small yellow cup. The owner of the voice was a nineteen-year-old young woman whose emaciated body was hidden by a jumble of sweatpants and a dingy _I Love NY_ t-shirt, both damp with sweat from the Missouri August heat. A head of stringy blonde hair was gathered under a baseball cap and her feet, shoved in sock-less sneakers, held a paint bucket in place. The young woman paused in her drum cadence to wipe some of the sweat from her palms before tightening her grip on her drum sticks and beginning a new song.

Patricia Wilson had arrived in the United States just a year and a half earlier in May 1990 during the peak of a massive heat wave in New York City that left even the rats lethargic. She had made the move from Tasmania Australia to what most people from the island called the "Big City" or the "Big Apple." It was all in part because of a book and a postcard that called the city, "The city of dreams" which she believed to be signs.

She found the book, a black glossy tome simply entitled _The Village_ , in the beginning of year 12 in her school's library. From cover to cover each page featured paintings, graffiti, and different buildings. It was full of photographs of painters and musicians. Huge, vibrant murals, as large as the buildings on which they were painted, and musicians captured in hazy nightclubs playing their instruments. In the centerfold of the book was one large mural whose composition made no sense to Patricia. That didn't matter, however, because she loved the feeling that she didn't understand it, that there were things out in the world that left her speechless and awestruck, but also left her confounded. But beyond the art, it was the artists themselves who interested her. The vibrant pictures, printed on glossy pages, were of the artists in their various shades of dress and personality whose eyes shone alongside their artwork with happiness and city life.

Patricia checked out the book several times in a row until the librarian told her she had to let a week pass between loans. This left her embarrassed and worried that the librarian knew what she did with it; staring at the photographs of the artists, dreaming of them, and occasionally reaching down into her jeans and pressing her hands there while she looked into the beautiful and shining artist's eyes. Patricia waited until the librarian was distracted before grabbing the book off the re-shelf cart and slipped it into her bag. With every viewing of the book, Patricia wanted to know everything about the people featured: what they ate for dinner; what scared them; who they liked to date and who they liked to fuck; how they came up with the ideas for their creations. But most importantly, were they moved and inspired by the same things that moved and inspired her? Did they possess the unbearable feeling that if they didn't create something, if they didn't feel up the world around them with the expression leaking out of them, they would explode?

Finding a postcard that literally landed right in front of her drove her to find the answers to her questions. She found it while driving her father's pickup home from work. It had landed on the front of her windshield and for some reason she felt the need to stop and examine it instead of waiting for it to blow away. It was a faded picture of the New York skyline on a black night, in all its jagged, sparkly glory. The back said: "You haven't lived until you've died in the city of dreams." Her heart stopped when she read it. The City of Dreams. The same city she'd see in the backdrop of music videos when she'd watch MTV and play her drums along with whatever song was playing while dreaming that she was in those videos.

She had no idea who the person was that the card was addressed to but she knew that the wind blew it her way for a reason. This sign was meant for her. That night when she finally got home she walked into the kitchen where her mother was preparing dinner and her dad was trying to steal some of it and told them she was moving to New York and that was final. Year 12 wrapped up three months later and she brought the topic back up to her parents. She wasn't going to stick around for her exam scores or let anyone talk her out of something she was so sure of.

"You know you don't have to go," her mother said the night before she left. She was sitting on the edge of Patricia's bed, watching her pack the rest of her clothes into an enormous tawny orange suitcase that she paid five dollars for at the local Hobart Goodwill. "You've got your entire life to explore the world. You haven't even seen your exam scores. Maybe they're high enough for university. No one's forcing you to go now."

Patricia rolled her eyes and huffed as she placed another shirt into the suitcase. "You and I both know no one can make me do anything I don't want to."

Her mother was attempting to do what everyone in town had done for weeks, which was convince her that the nautical borders of Hobart, Tasmania, Australia was where the world ended. That everything she would ever need could be found right there. But Patricia was no fool. Her book, her post card, they all proved to her that there was a wide world out there waiting to fill the emptiness in her. She refused to be stuck in Hobart along with the other washed out townies who didn't go to university, working at Jack Oliver's, the hardware store in the center of town. No one was making her leave. She was going because she physically had to. Everyone thought she was crazy to pack up and leave everything she had ever known but Patricia was smart enough to know that craziness was bravery that only she was smart enough to embrace.

"I know, I know," her mother said, in a voice that Patricia wanted to recoil from and already missed. "It's your decision. I'm just worried," she said, shifting her weight onto her hand.

Patricia's mother knew her better than anyone, because they were cut from the same cloth: unfulfillment eating at their insides, warring impulses to be comfortable or to be courageous. However, the difference was that her mother's war had been fought, her desires already mostly squashed by her commitment to her family, and she had ended up here in a house in what some might consider the middle of nowhere.

"I know but you're working yourself up for nothing," Patricia said. "I'm an adult. I'll be alright." She knew it sounded unconvincing, because she was unconvinced herself. Despite how sure she was that this was the right decision, a part of her was still worried. Would she be alright? She had no idea what she would do in New York. She only knew that it was where she needed to be if she wanted any chance at being happy. She imagined a nice apartment on the upper eastside. She imagined expensive leather jackets and new drum sets on stages in hazy jazz clubs. She imagined finding a group of people who, like her, were unfulfilled and who also wanted to fill that emptiness with music.

In a small town like this there were only so many ways to find excitement, and they were too subtle to be interesting—a snowstorm like the one on the night she was born; a litter of puppies born in town; Dustin Thomas's hand on her breast in the cab of his musty truck; the married biology teacher, telling her in his soft teacher voice that he just couldn't keep betraying his wife. Yet, despite all this, Patricia did try to spark some sort of excitement when she could—calling Mr. Haslam's house in the middle of the night, getting drunk on the bottle of rum her parents kept in the cabinet, trying to start a ska band, going to loud concerts, and drunken bonfires in the middle of empty fields. Patricia knew they weren't enough. Something to pacify her until she grew old and it was too late to chase any dreams of another more interesting life. And the worst of it all was that time in Hobart moved like the shadows that cloaked her house, so slow that you couldn't see it. Patricia feared that if she didn't get out now, her life would pass her by and when she finally noticed, her future would be behind her.

When she looked back on it now, 18 months later, Patricia realized that her arrival in NYC and the weeks that followed were great considering the fact that heartbreak belonged to the city itself—beggars on Cristopher Street, fearless rats, a hand hanging out the window of the subway at the 33rd street station, holding a knife. Her ar rival: the red-eye flight, the heavy suitcases, the air thick with that lethargic summer hope. The taxicab that smelled of urine, candy and leather. The first meal she had in a small eatery with tiling that epitomized the New York of her mind, a building with walls that made her feel adult and modern and that raced toward the skyline almost as fast as her heart. Despite the ridiculous heat and the difficulty of the suitcases, her exploration of the city was exhilarating. Patricia wove among the new streets, unnoticed. The feeling of it of not being recognized or watched—made her giddy and terrified. She could do whatever she pleased. She could take any turn. She could write on a wall herself, if she wanted; who was there to see her be sides all these people who didn't care? There was no Jaxson telling her to sweep the floors and no mother asking when she would be home.

On the plane ride there she had decided she wanted to reinvent herself and she knew Patricia Wilson wasn't going to cut it so after browsing through several magazines she settled on the name Amy. It was simple but she felt it was cool enough for a drummer of a famous rock band. So, when she met people she'd introduce herself using her new moniker. New York gave her the chance to be exactly who or what she wanted to be. She could answer an ad she found blowing in the wind. Everything awaited her. The buildings soared. Kids played in the streets in their underwear. She was arriving. This was her arrival.

That was how New York began. A willingness, and then a pause. An at titude, a confidence, and then this: cracked walls and huge bugs, her first cigarette, a nightclub with a strobe light, a man's arm with a tattoo on it, the taste of her own fear. Fear not for what might be in store but for what might _not_ be, that her bravery, which looked so big in her hometown, would not amount to anything, that New York City would not deliver on its promise for something grand and glamorous, unknown and unknowable.

Within days she managed to find a small apartment. It was small, with a dismal bathroom with a ring of mold in the toilet bowl, the two-burner stove, the bars on the windows. Even now as Patricia sat outside this bus station and continued to play whatever songs came to mind, she remembered how her throat got caught as she asked herself what had she imagined? A fancy loft with huge squares of light coming in? A shiny Yamaha full kit in the corner and a new stereo system in the other? An authentic leather jacket? A set of high heels in the corner of a huge room, sitting pretty beside a rack of guitars she would never play but liked the way they looked?

Patricia learned that none of that was the New York she'd be given. Her New York was one hundred square feet of hell and dust. She learned quickly that she had to create a feeling of _okay_ for herself if she wanted to survive.

As the months trailed on she kept her eyes open for the artists in her book, but they never seemed to frequent the same places she did. Instead, she met a bunch of slimy men (and some women) who were cleanly dressed and sloppily drunk and were looking for a young blonde like her to take their minds off stocks and investments and court cases. It wasn't long before she had spent all the money she'd saved, and she was ashamed to call her parents for more, not that they had any to send her. She ate hardly anything—bread and butter, candy bars, an apple—but even with her frugalness she could not afford the $233 rent the landlord was asking for on the fifteenth of the month.

When she left Australia, she knew she would need a job at least until her music was able to support her, but she hadn't even considered how she would get one, and she began to see after several failed interviews that a job wasn't going to come as easily to her as her one at Jack Oliver's did. Each day during those first few weeks, as she climbed from the sweltering underground of the subway stations or taped up a blister she had gotten from walk ing around the city aimlessly, or felt like a fool in her silly-looking sneakers, slashed with neon yellow strips of plastic, which had seemed so advanced in Hobart but horribly wrong now, she questioned her decision to come here. Each day she had countless moments where she thought she just couldn't handle the ruthlessness of New York City and she found herself often longing for the wooden walls of her bedroom, Hobart's clean air, an afternoon with nothing around her and nothing to do. And when she was finally evicted, she often found herself in tears in a phone booth or on a stoop, sometimes even in the dressing room of a clothing store whose clothes she couldn't afford. She'd look for anywhere to hide herself and her tears from the hungry eyes of the people around her. She quickly learned there was nowhere to cry in New York.

But she learned. She adapted. She soon found what parts of Central Park she could sleep in and be undisturbed for the night. She got to know the busboy of the small cafe on 8th avenue who would let her have the stale bagels and unused cream cheese. She learned that the security was lax at the local pool on Sundays and she could go in and have a quick shower. Over time, she had to get rid of some of the stuff she brought with her, unable to carry it all around and before she knew it all she had to call her own was a small duffel bag and her drum sticks. She still tried to find a job but without a home address or a phone number it was nearly impossible to land anything. It was in the middle of one of these lacrimal instances, in a mid town subway station, on her way home from a botched interview (at an independent music shop, where apparently you had to know the composers of every symphony ever written, on command), dressed in a pair of her cleanest dark jeans and a plane white Hanes t shirt that Patricia saw her first New York City artist.

Not one of those stuffy upper east side "arteests" but a real maker of beauty.

On the other side of the tracks, between the rusting pillars sat a man behind a bunch of paint buckets playing them like drums. She was awed and moved closer to the tracks so she could see what he was doing. She quickly made her way out of the station and onto the stairs to take her to the other side. She watched this mystery man who she expected was in a similar situation as she based on his dingy clothes, dirty pasty skin, stringy hair and yellowed, rotted teeth. She watched him from a bit of a distance not wanting him to notice her. She studied him, her own sticks in her hand miming what he was doing. When he turned to thank some mystery woman who just dropped some coins in his bag, he noticed her. He smiled and waved her over.

Hesitant but figuring she had nothing to lose, she checked that her bag was secure on her shoulder before going over to him.

"I saw you watching me." Patricia's eyes widened as she went to apologize and he shook his head. "I also saw you playing along."

She nodded, "Yeah. I've never seen anything like this. How do you get them to sound like that?"

"That's the beauty of it all. Figuring out how to get it to sound good. What's your name?"

"Amy."

The man smiled, "Benji." He pulled a bucket out of the one he was sitting on and offered it to her to take a seat. "So, do you want to learn how to do this?" he said gesturing to the buckets in front of them. She nodded earnestly at his offer to teach her, and so he did.

DWDWDW

Aubrey walked into her living room carrying a bowl of spaghetti in one hand and a cup of milk in the other. Today was one of the rare days where she was home alone. Her mother had taken Danny out of town to see a neurologist that she hoped would be able to provide some miracle cure for Danny's neurological problems. When her mother had told her of the trip, Aubrey just rolled her eyes and allowed her mother to live in her fantasy. She took a seat on the couch and placed her glass of milk on the coffee table. She crossed her legs in front of her and pulled one of the throw pillows onto her lap to serve as a tray before placing her bowl on top.

Her mother wasn't due to return for a few hours and Aubrey was going to take advantage. She grabbed the VCR remote and pressed play before digging into her food. It wasn't often that she had time to herself. Between school and having to take on the role of secondary caregiver for her brother since the age of 12 when her mother couldn't be bothered (which was more often than not) it was rare that she could sit down and messily eat spaghetti and watch _Scooby-Doo_.

Aubrey gathered another forkful of noodles and grumbled, "I don't understand how you didn't figure out he was the guy. I expect better from you, Velma." She lifted her fork but before it could reach her mouth the doorbell rang. Her eyes jumped to the clock on the wall and she frowned. Her mother was impossibly early if it was her at the door. Aubrey placed her bowl on the table and put the pillow to the side.

Aubrey didn't believe in coincidences and hated surprised but she found herself with her lips parted in shock and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Sup, Bree."

A passerby would have thought Aubrey had opened her door and encountered medusa on the other side with how stone-still she stood staring at Beca on her doorstep.

"So, it's hot as all hell and I'm sweating like a nun in a cucumber patch. Can I come inside?"

"Wh—what're you doing here?"

Beca lifted the guitar case in her hand. "You said I could stop by." She walked past Aubrey into the much cooler house. She turned back to Aubrey who stood with her back resting against the now closed door. "Um, you've got a little something…" she said gesturing to Aubrey's chin.

That seemed to pull Aubrey out of her stupor. She quickly used the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe what she assumed was tomato sauce from her face. "How did you find out where I lived?"

Beca grinned from where she stood, kicking off her sneakers and dropping her bookbag on the couch. "Chloe said you were her neighbor and I've been to her house plenty of times. Plus, there's a huge label on your mailbox that says 'Posen'." She lifted the _Scooby-Doo_ VHS case and looked at Aubrey with an amused grin as she said, "that's dangerous, you know. I could've been a stranger looking to hurt you."

Aubrey's eyes narrowed as she snatched the case from Beca and carried it, along with her abandoned food, into the kitchen. When she returned, Beca had her guitar out of its case. "Why are you here?" Aubrey asked and Beca grinned.

"You promised to fix my pickups, remember?"

"I said no such thing, "Aubrey retorted only to recall that she did make such a promise. Beca must have realized that Aubrey remembered because she grinned and held out her instrument expectantly. Aubrey rolled her eyes before instructing Beca to follow her to the basement where she kept her tools.

"Please don't touch anything," Aubrey said as they walked down the stairs. She flipped up the light switching illuminating the dark space.

"Aye Aye captain," Beca said and walked past Aubrey to place her guitar on the metal table on the opposite end of the room. Aubrey walked over to where she stood and glanced down at the instrument before sighing. "I'll go get a towel to put under it." She disappeared back up the stairs before Beca could speak.

"Alright then," Beca mumbled to herself as she shoved her hands in her pockets. She looked at the various plaques and framed certificates perched on a shelf above Aubrey's work space. Beca took a step forward to get a closer look at the photo that was posted on the cork board under the shelf. She recognized a much younger Aubrey with a medal around her neck on the shoulder of her brother, Danny. Chloe had hinted at Aubrey's brother having suffered an accident and Beca guessed this picture was taken before then. When she heard Aubrey on the basement steps she turned and smiled at her. "I know you're into the whole robot thing but I didn't know you were this good," Beca said and gestured to the awards.

Aubrey's eyes traveled to the shelves behind Beca, her eyes betraying a deep sorrow before it was hidden away as Aubrey said, "They're no big deal."

Beca chuckled, "I doubt that," she paused to lift her guitar so that Aubrey could lay out the towel on the table surface. "There's a lot of medals and plaques. Why're you selling yourself short?"

Aubrey sighed as she gathered her hair and pulled it into a ponytail. "I'm _not_ selling myself short. I say it's not a big deal because it isn't. At least not anymore. I don't have time to spend all day down here messing with engines and wires. I do enough to stay on the team at school so I can put it on my college apps but engineering isn't the center of my life anymore…it can't be."

Sensing the tension in Aubrey, Beca nudged her shoulder with her own and, with the hope of cheering her up, Beca asked, "You'll never guess where I found this." She gestured to the instrument in front of them. Aubrey looked at her, shrugging her shoulders and Beca grinned as she said, "Do you know Damien Steele? No? Big shocker there." She laughed at Aubrey's indignant snort at her comment. "Anyway, he's the lead singer of the band Hanging Alice and he came to town at the end of last month. Anyway, one of the roadies was about to chuck it because it wasn't making any sounds when Damien strummed."

Aubrey looked at the mahogany guitar. She didn't know much about them but she recognized the name Gibson painted at the top where the strings met and knew it was an expensive brand. Beca must have seen where her eyes were because she said, "I know! He was about to throw away a damn Gibson SG. A $1500 axe that I got him to give me with the case for a bag of weed and twenty bucks."

"But, if it's truly broken then didn't you get the bad end of the deal?"

"Obviously not since you're going to figure out what's wrong with it."

Aubrey sighed and sat down on the stool she kept under the table. "You don't even know what's wrong with it. How am I supposed to know?"

Beca shrugged, "I don't know. I guess we can work together and figure it out. You can be my own personal Velma," she said wiggling her eyebrows comically.

"Yeah, except the problems she has to solve are usually right there in her face. I don't know the first thing about guitars."

"That may be true but like I said, we'll figure it out together."

Aubrey's eyes met Beca's and she could see the optimism there. She looked away quickly realizing she was making a habit of not denying Beca anything. She pushed her glasses up from where they'd fallen down the bridge of her nose and asked her if she tried playing the instrument or did she take the man's word for it that the guitar didn't work.

"No, I tried playing it and it's weird. See, when I was laying down on my bed messing around on it, my amp picked up the signal. But when I stood up, nothing.

Aubrey pursed her lips as she tried to think. "Maybe there's a short somewhere. Is there anywhere on here that'll let me see how its wired?"

Beca reached out and turned the instrument over. "Do you mean this? If you take the plate off you can see the wires that connect to the pickups."

Aubrey grabbed one of the phillips-head screwdrivers from the small rack to her left and removed the four screws and cover to gain access to the wiring. She recognized right away what was possibly wrong and the uneasiness that had settled in her stomach disappeared; she'd been afraid of the possibility of having to admit she didn't know how to fix the instrument and for some reason she couldn't discern, disappointing Beca bothered her more than it should.

"Do you know what's wrong with it?" Beca asked, her question pulling Aubrey out of her head.

"Huh?" Oh, yeah, I think so. You see these wires, they're way too long. These metal braided wires are connected to one signal and when you put the cover on, it smashed everything together." She demonstrated by putting the cover back on before placing it aside again. "What happens then is, the wires are left to flop around and they make contact with the parts of the circuit that are hot. And this is what you get," she picked up a pair of plastic tweezers and lifted the metal braid. She placed it next to the smaller wire. "It shorts out anything coming from the wire, thus leaving you with no sound."

"Is this expensive to fix?" Beca asked and Aubrey shook her head.

"I just have to trim the wires and solder them back. Shouldn't take more than ten or fifteen minutes," she said only to be startled by Beca placing her arm around her shoulder.

"See, I knew you were a super genius and would figure it out."

Still thrown off guard by the contact, Aubrey cleared the knot in her throat and said, "Um, well I don't even know if it'll work or if that's even what's wrong."

"Nah," Beca said. "You figured it out. I know you did."

Aubrey could see the supreme confidence in Beca's eyes and said a small prayer as she grabbed her soldering iron and wire cutters.

 _God, I hope I'm right."_

DWDWDWDW

"Well if you don't want to go, then why are you letting your mother make you?" Beca asked remembering to keep her voice low as to not be too distracting to Aubrey while she worked.

Aubrey glanced at her before looking back at the wires in front of her. "It's bad enough that I'll have to eventually admit I don't have a date but she wouldn't accept me missing the event all together."

"Well then we won't tell her. You can just not go and we can do something else instead." Beca said.

Aubrey noticed Beca's use of _we_ but chose not to address it. "I can't. It would break her heart. I think Prom means more to my mother than it does to me."

Beca watched with fascination as Aubrey used what she referred to as a soldering iron to reattach one of the now shortened wires. "Can I ask you a question?" She asked after allowing Aubrey some time to work in quiet. Aubrey nodded but didn't look away from what she was doing. "What's the real reason you don't want to sing in our band?"

"Beca—" Aubrey began in exasperation but Beca cut her off.

"No, here me out. I know you said you don't have much free time but we only practice a few hours every day."

Aubrey sighed and put down the soldering iron before removing her protective glasses. "Why are you so insistent on me being the singer? You haven't even heard my actual voice and that old recording Chloe has doesn't count."

Beca paused, not sure if she should admit to having seen Aubrey that night at the club. After releasing a long sigh, she said, "I saw you perform live. At that club. I'm sorry that I followed you but I don't regret it because seeing you on stage was amazing. You looked happy up there."

Beca watched as the anger on Aubrey's face at her revelation morphed from confusion to a seeming sadness. She looked away from Beca and closed her eyes. "I am…happy, that is. I just…when I'm singing, I'm somewhere else completely. It's as if the songs are a mystery to me until I'm inside them where everything becomes clearer." She opened her eyes slightly and looked towards Beca. "Do you know what I mean?"

Beca smiled softly, "Yeah I guess I do. When I'm playing my guitar, I get lost in the music but the way you describe it sounds much deeper."

The two didn't speak after that of which Aubrey was glad because she knew if Beca asked her again to be the singer she might say yes. When she finished ten minutes later she looked over to Beca who was lost in her own mind. She reached out and touched her arm and said she was finished.

Beca blinked a few times to clear the fog in her head before smiling. "You know I have to test this out, right?" she said as Aubrey replaced the fourth and final screw on the back plate.

Aubrey looked up and asked, "And you're going to go home to do that, right?"

Beca chuckled and lifted her guitar by the middle of its neck. "Of course not. I have to check here so we can see if what you did worked." She made her way over to and up the stairs as she spoke.

Aubrey rolled her eyes and replaced the screwdriver in her hand. "I don't see why you can't do that at home and then call me after," she mumbled to herself as she walked to the stairs and made her way out of the basement. When she reentered the living room she saw Beca standing with her guitar hanging around her neck while fumbling with a black cable. Aubrey watched her connect it to the guitar and then to a small amp, no larger than a textbook, that she pulled out of her bookbag.

"So, do you have any song suggestions?" Beca asked when she had everything plugged in and turned on.

Aubrey frowned and walked over to the television, bending over slightly to check the time. She knew her mother and Danny would be home soon and she still had to clean up before then. She told Beca as much only for her warning to be waved off. "I'm sure you've got plenty of time." When she saw that Aubrey didn't agree she added, "Ok, I'll just play one song and then I'll be out of your hair."

Aubrey didn't respond right away instead standing with her arms crossed in front of her as she debated if she should give into Beca's request or to just stand her ground and insist that Beca leave. "Alright, just one song," she finally decided, "but after that, you have to go."

Beca raised her hands in triumph. "So, do you have anything you want to hear? I'd pick something but I don't want to push my luck by cranking out some Testament or Slayer."

Aubrey shook her head and walked over to the loveseat facing the shorter edge of the coffee table. "No, I don't have any suggestions," she said as she took a seat, "but I doubt you'd even want to play any of the music I like."

"Well, do you know Zeppelin or Aerosmith?" Beca asked and when Aubrey shook her head she followed up with, "What about Lita Ford or uh, Stevie Knicks?" When Aubrey shook her head Beca's shoulders dropped as she said, "Well, shit. What do you listen to?"

"I like the Bangles."

Beca rolled her eyes, "Anything else that's not Billboard 100 bullshit?"

Aubrey threw the throwpillow on her lap at Beca, "Hey! I really like them."

"Of course you do," Beca mumbled as she walked over to the stack of CDs that were resting next to the stereo system. "Let's see what's in here. Do you know any of these artists?"

"I like the Prince album in there. My brother and I used to listen to him all the time before my mother realized that maybe he wasn't age appropriate." Aubrey rolled her eyes remembering that her mother was the one to buy the _Parade_ album for her without taking the time to actually listen to it.

Beca looked through the albums and found the one Aubrey was referring to. "Alright, but I'm definitely going to have to make you some tapes. Show you what real music is," she said as she placed the CD in the disc slot. She turned over the cd case and scanned the list of songs before finding one she recognized. A popular request at wedding gigs.

"Prince is real music," Aubrey said.

"I agree but you still need to learn that there's a shit ton of music that exists outside of pop charts." Beca hit play and skipped to the song before stepping back and turning up the sound dial on her Gibson. She began to play the familiar riff and smiled when her guitar produced a sound. She saw recognition in Aubrey's eyes and smirked when she saw Aubrey's lips twitch as if to sing before she looked away.

Beca got an idea and smiled to herself as she began to sing, " _You don't have to be beautiful to turn me on_ ," she began and looked at Aubrey expectantly. Aubrey rolled her eyes and Beca walked over to her as she sang and strummed. She sat on the arm of the chair and rested her head on Aubrey's as she sang, " _You don't need experience to turn me out_." She looked down and noticed Aubrey was trying to maintain a straight face but it didn't last. Soon enough Beca was able to cajole her into singing. And while Beca had seen it once before, she was still surprised to see how Aubrey lost herself in the song, moving her hips and body as if embodying Prince himself. She would strut up to Beca and wrap an arm around her from behind as she sang near her ear, _"Women not girls rule my world, I said they rule my world"_ and Beca had to force herself to concentrate. The last thing she wanted was to miss a chord and break the spell Aubrey was under. Not to mention Aubrey was sixteen and Beca refused to be the creepy adult leering at a teenager. She wasn't much older, being twenty, but Beca had been on the other end of the spectrum with several of Pieter's junkie customers trying to be her "friend"; and if it weren't for Luisa's acute awareness of the world they lived in she knew she would have been taken advantage of.

Aubrey grinned at her and pulled her hair from its ponytail, shaking her hair loose as Beca began to play the solo. While originally, Beca's plan had been to get Aubrey to loosen up around her in hopes of convincing her to join the band but Beca had become as immersed in the music as Aubrey had. They had been unconsciously flirting as they played together, interweaving the notes of their respective instruments. Anyone watching could see the way Aubrey was (unintentionally of course) teasing Beca and Beca was responding, enticing her with the catching riff during what could be considered musical intimacy that extended well beyond the notes and lyrics of the song.

The song came to an end with both breathing heavily, slightly out of breath. Beca reached out to push away a stray lock of hair from Aubrey's face, tucking it behind her ear as she commented on what a great job Aubrey had done. Aubrey would later look back on the moment and argue it was the spell of the music that made her lean into Beca's touch before stepping closer to her. But at the time, however, she felt this overwhelming pull to the guitarist.

"Aubrey?"

Both girls jumped apart and Aubrey immediately grabbed the stereo remote and hit stop. Beca immediately noticed the change in Aubrey's demeanor when her mother arrived.

"Who's this, Aubrey?" Ms. Posen asked.

Danny stepped past her and waved to his younger sister. "She's pretty, Bree."

Beca chuckled but Aubrey didn't find any humor in the situation. Instead, she unplugged Beca's amp, detaching it from the chord running to Beca's guitar.

Beca sighed and unplugged her guitar, placing it in its case. She took her bag from Aubrey and said, "I guess I'll see you later." She glanced over to Ms. Posen and seeing the glare still directed at her, she added, "or not." Ms. Posen stepped aside to Beca's relief and allowed her to exit the house without trouble.

Aubrey waited until the door closed before she looked at her mother and tried to explain. "Mom, I'm—"

Her mother held up her hand to stop her. "Dinner is at six," and she walked out of the living room and into the kitchen out of sight of her daughter. Aubrey sighed and walked over to Danny to help him take off his sweater and to listen to him as he told her about his trip.

Later that night when the Posen family sat down to eat dinner, Aubrey couldn't help but think of Beca and how she had literally and figuratively barged into Aubrey's life. That afternoon saw Aubrey act completely out of character but singing brought that out of her. Like she told Beca, she became a different person when she allowed herself to get lost in the music. And if she were being honest with herself, she had a great time singing with Beca.

"Aubrey, are you listening?"

Aubrey looked up from where she'd been pushing around green beans on her plate and nodded, "Yes, Ma'am."

Her mother watched her for a few seconds before nodding and saying, "so you'll need to come home right after school so that we can head to the boutique. Carla offered to make your dress for a discount but we need to get there early if we want it finished in time for the dance."

Aubrey looked at her plate to hide the fact that she had rolled her eyes.

"I know we've decided on a champagne color. Have you let your date know so that he can match his waistcoat and tie?"

Aubrey sighed. "I've had some offers but I haven't made any decisions on who I want to go with," she lied. She looked at Danny and smiled at him as she said, "Maybe, I'll take Danny."

Her brother beamed at her but before he could speak her mother cut in with, "You will do no such thing."

Aubrey saw the crestfallen look on Danny's face and said, "Why not? I'm sure I'd have a better time with him than anyone else."

"Going to prom is what got him in this situation in the first place," Ms. Posen said and Aubrey frowned. She hated when her mother insinuated that Danny's accident was his fault. Especially, when she did it in front of Danny who clearly understood what she meant.

"You can't possibly blame him for that."

"Then whose fault was it, Aubrey? He knew that getting behind the wheel while drunk was stupid and dangerous but he did it anyway. Not someone else, but him."

Aubrey frowned, seeing the sadness on Danny's face knowing it was useless arguing the point any further with her mother. She sighed knowing she'd be spending most of the night talking to Danny about how it wasn't his fault and that his mother didn't hate him even though she said such things.

And Beca thought she'd have time to join their band. Yeah right.

DWDWDW

Amy sat outside the New Haven bus station dressed in worn yet clean clothing. She'd gotten lucky when some poor chap forgot his suitcase on one of the incoming greyhound busses. The driver, obviously disillusioned with his job, let her take it off his hands if it meant he got to go home faster instead of having to wait for the passenger to return. She had been outside the station or the past hour just playing whatever came to mind. She almost had enough to buy a ticket to get her to at least Denver. She knew she'd be on the next bus out of St. Louis tomorrow if she could just pull in another twenty dollars.

So lost in the cadence being created at her feet, she didn't notice someone had walked up to her until they were close enough to block the sun's glare.

"You sound amazing," the stranger said and Amy looked up at her. She was a short brunette carrying a guitar case in one hand and holding a Dr. Pepper can in the other. "I'd give a few bucks but I just spent the last of my money on the bus."

Amy shrugged and told her not to worry about it. The girl shook her head and said, "Maybe I can help you draw in some more money. I got my rig right here. Might get people to give more if they hear some melody with those beats?"

Amy turned on the paint bucket she was sitting on and looked at the stranger wondering what her deal was. Why was she offering to help her earn money without immediately demanding something in return? The girl chuckled and said, "don't worry I'm not trying to gyp you. I just thought that since I was once in your shoes I'd help you out. Playing my guitar is the only way I know how."

Amy sighed and thought for a few seconds before agreeing.

The girl was right next to her on one knee in an instant. Amy watched her eager, slender hands that couldn't move fast enough, it seemed, to get her case open and her Gibson out and plugged in. Amy watched her work, laughing to herself quietly. The girl got to her feet and slipped the guitar over her neck and shoulders in one smooth move. "What are we playing?" she asked and Amy shrugged. She turned back to her paint buckets and picked up her sticks. "Well what was that you were playing before?"

"Nothing really," Amy said.

"Well, let's make it something, then," she said, and Amy joined her. It was slow, then a little faster, and eventually they found a good tempo for their playing styles. Neither knew when it happened but soon they were playing classic rock songs from "Walk this Way" to "Back in Black" and "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction." When the girl began to sing, Amy was thrown off by her voice, not expecting such a powerful voice to come from such a small body.

There were no words—at least, she didn't think there were, but it didn't matter. Her melody was what counted, and it counted a lot. It floated over the changes above them. It wove through Amy's rhythm and the chords she played, like magic over the coming and going flow of people in and out of the station, brought people over to them. Sometimes the girl's eyes came up and met Amy's, when she wasn't singing. But whenever she sang, it was all hands and strings, hands and strings, and Amy started thinking about marionettes. This girl was the puppeteer drawing people to their street performance. Dollars and silver coins were dropped in the small yellow cup Amy had placed in front of her set and she thought she even saw a five-dollar bill at one point. This girl was one of the artists that she had searched for. One that deserved to be among the others in her book. An artist that she hadn't been in the company of since Benji had been arrested trying to steal medicine for her when she had bronchitis. Benji could sing too and hearing this girl's voice brought back sad memories for the drummer.

Amy remembered how much fun Benji had been to be around. He taught her his trade; all the good spots to go to in NYC and at what time to make the most tips. Sometimes, he'd sing while she played. Other times they'd split up and meet up later in the day after they'd been chased away from their spots by NYPD. They'd split their tips using it to buy food or if they had enough, to take the path over into NJ to rent a cheap motel along route one. Since moving to New York, Amy for the first time felt like the future wasn't bleak. She wasn't in love with Benji but she knew if given time she could have been. Everything was going great…well as great as someone who was homeless could ever hope for. Until she got sick. She had waved off Benji's suggestions to spend some of their tips on cold medicine, a decision Amy would regret for years to come. She soon had bronchitis. They knew if she had gone to the emergency room she would have been treated but they wouldn't be able to afford the bill. It was while breaking into a Duane Reade for medicine to treat her, that Benji was arrested. He had managed to drop the pills into a trashcan before taking off to draw the cops away from where she had been waiting across the street.

She had waited a week, taking the time to recover, for Benji to return to their meet up spot in Central Park. When a week turned into a month Amy knew he wasn't coming back. She packed up their buckets and her few possessions before carving a message into the tree where they often slept. She managed to sneak onto a bus towards Cincinnati and from there she would play for money to afford a ticket to the next city. She planned to keep doing this until she reached Seattle, hoping to fare better there with the up and coming music scene.

Amy used the heal of her toe to lift one of the buckets to give the sound a bit of echo. She leaned over, closer to the girl and her voice. That voice—rich and sweet, crystal clear. Even over Amy's drums and the girl's guitar, she could hear every note, every trembling vibrato, every quiver, and it was glorious. Amy could tell she smoked, and probably had a shot of whiskey or two. Those vices are what gave her voice a smoky yet sweet tone.

The chorus came around again for the final time of "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" so Amy began to slowly lower the bucket resting on the toe of her right sneaker and began to lighten her drum strokes until the girl played the final chords and her voice fell away.

They stayed quiet for a few moments before the girl turned towards Amy. "How was that?"

Amy laughed heartily at the uncertainty on the girl's face as she said, "It was ace! I don't think I've ever made that many tips so quickly."

The girl shrugged and said, "It's no biggie. But I bet you want me out of your hair now, right?"

"How about this," Amy began, "Play with me for another twenty minutes and I'll split with you whatever we make. Deal?"

The girl smirked before turning up the volume dial on her guitar. "I'm Beca, by the way."

Amy smiled at her as she adjusted her seat and said, "Amy. I'm Amy."

* * *

 ** _This took longer than I expected. My courses, while not technically difficult, require a lot of my time. I had this chapter written for some time but never had the chance to sit down and transcribe it from notebook to my computer. It didn't help that this was one of the longer chapters. The next isn't nearly as long so it shouldn't take as long to post either. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please let me know what you think by leaving a review._**


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